


Don't Look Back

by Kalkasar (Mordhena)



Series: No Turning Back [4]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Culture Shock, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precognition, Psychological Trauma, Returning Home, Telepathy, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26533270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Kalkasar
Summary: Trip and Malcolm are back onEnterprisebut their journey home is far from over.
Relationships: Jonathan Archer/T'pol (implied), Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Series: No Turning Back [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916815
Comments: 15
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the readers, new and old.
> 
> This story is presented with many thanks to those who helped in the creation of the work of fiction, with especial kudos to ^RedHead^ whose tireless patience in listening to me grouch and gripe about points of plot was one of the strongest motivators. 
> 
> I would also like to thank all those who read this as a WIP on the ENTSTSlash mailing list way back in 2002.  
> You all rock!  
> Kal
> 
> * * *

Commander Tucker sat at the desk in his quarters, shaking his head over a report. _I'm way outta the loop, here,_ he thought as he scanned another line of the engineering report dated one month after he and Reed had crash landed on Zilanth. 

He had set himself the task of trying to catch up with all that had happened on board and particularly in Engineering since he'd been gone, partly as a way of trying to reconnect with this ship that felt almost alien to him at present, and partly to alleviate boredom. 

Two days had passed since their return to the ship and Malcolm Reed had slept most of that time; an induced sleep that Phlox said was probably the best thing for the lieutenant at present, but Tucker knew it was also a ploy to buy time so that _Enterprise_ could put enough distance between them and the Zilanthi home world to effectively quash any notions they – or more to the point, Malcolm may have of going back. 

Tucker knew that the captain was only doing his job, but at the same time there was a tiny part of him that resented Archer's actions. 

He sighed and returned his attention to the padd, wondering when the doctor would finally allow Malcolm to come out of his drug induced slumber. 

The comm. panel beeped at that moment, and Crewman Cutler's voice cut across his thoughts. 

_Sickbay to Commander Tucker!_

**\--/--**

It was dark and quiet. Warm. He felt cocooned, safe. The paralyzing fear had gone. He was in the caves. Trip was nearby; Trip said it was going to be okay. 

He turned to his side and almost fell off the narrow bed. With a cry he opened his eyes, reaching for any handhold to steady him and found cold metal bars that prevented his fall. 

This wasn't right, this was…alien and yet familiar, this was… 

" _Enterprise_ _!"_

The realization hit as a vocal exclamation and he sat up too quickly causing his head to spin. He had been here often enough to recognize the sensation of waking from drug induced sleep. He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "We're back…he said he wouldn't force me to come back!" 

A movement startled him and he jerked his head up, again disoriented by his head spinning. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Who is it?" He peered into the darkness, his breath coming in short gasps as he groped for a weapon. "Why are the lights off?" Panic edged his voice and he scrambled off the bed, placing it between himself and the direction the sounds came from. 

The light, when it came was blinding; Malcolm raised a hand up in a defensive action. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, struggling to clear it. "What do you want?" his tone close to a whimper. "Please, don't hurt me!" 

"No one's going to hurt you, Lieutenant." A female voice. "He looked up, eyes half closed against the offensive light, bright and hard, a painful contrast to the soft lighting in the Zilanthi caverns. A woman stood near the end of the bed; her eyes shadowed with concern as she held her hands up in a placating gesture. "It's all right, sir. I won't hurt you." 

"Cutler?" 

She smiled. "You remember…" 

"Of course I…" he hesitated. "The light…too bright.” 

Cutler reached for a control, dimmed the lights. "Sorry," she said. "Better?" 

"Much." He watched her, still wary. "How long was I…how long have we…" 

"Two days." 

He closed his eyes. _Two days…two days too far away to go back. Two_ _days too late for the portal._ A sigh and he straightened, keeping the bed between them. "Tr...Commander Tucker?" 

"He's fine." She took a step forward but halted as he recoiled. "It's all right, why don't you get back into bed? Are you thirsty? Hungry?" 

"W-water," he said with a nod, "I wwant to s-see Trip." Violent tremors shook him and he sank to the floor, huddling into himself. 

Cutler moved to a comms panel, watching him with concern. She pressed the call button. "Sickbay to Commander Tucker…" 

Malcolm closed his eyes, repeating the name of the one person he felt safe with almost as a mantra. "Trip!" Malcolm panted. “C-can't b-b-breathe!" 

"Lieutenant!" Having briefly reported the situation to Tucker, Cutler reached for a blanket from a trolley near the door and approached him slowly. "It's okay, you're safe. Commander Tucker will be here soon. Let me help you." 

"No!" The cry was accompanied with a lunge in her direction that had the crewman step back hastily. "S-stay away from m-me! Don-- don't t-touch m-me!" 

"Lieutenant," Cutler hunkered down but kept her distance, she put the blanket on the floor and pushed it towards him as far as she could extend her arm. "It's a blanket…it will keep you warm, can you reach it?" 

He looked up, blue-gray eyes wild, but he met her gaze as he continued to pant, desperate, rasping breaths. 

"Please, pick up the blanket… just wrap it around your shoulders." 

"Trip! Where are y-you? Trip?" He wrapped his arms around his chest. Crushing pain tore at him, rendering him breathless, his lungs pumped hard, trying to pull more air into his body, his head ached and every exhalation ended on a small cough. 

Cutler frowned, easing down to sit on the floor. "Where does it hurt? What's hurting you?" She kept her voice low, and her hands in plain view. "I can help you; just tell me what's hurting you?" 

Malcolm groaned, closed his eyes and turned his head away, clutching at a point near his collarbone on the left. 

"Tell me what to do." Cutler pleaded. 

"Kill m-me! Y-you can k-kill me … w-would b-be a m-mercy!" 

"Don't talk like that!" The accented voice rapped across the tense tableau as Tucker entered the sickbay. "L’tenent Reed!" Tucker didn't waste any time getting to Reed's side. "Snap to, L’tenent!" His accent was thickly pronounced as he went to his knees on the floor and gripped the younger man's shoulders. "That's an order!" he ignored Cutler, barely even acknowledging her presence. 

"Trip!" Reed's head came up, and his eyes met the blue ones that gazed into his, reading love, concern, and warning in them. He reached out with a shaking hand and touched his lover’s face, tracing his fingers over the scarring around Tucker's eye. "Trip, it hurts…" 

"I know. But you need t'let people help ya, Malcolm. C'mon, get up off the floor, and into bed, huh?" 

Reed nodded and stumbled to his feet with Tucker's aid. "J-just n-need you h-here," he panted as he took a faltering step towards the bed. 

"Ah'm here, and I won't leave, but ya gotta help us, okay, you gotta …" Tucker spoke gently as he helped the man onto the bed. "You gotta work with us." 

"You... and h-her," Reed mumbled, "n-no one else." He glanced from Tucker to Cutler. "D-don't l-lie to m-me again!" 

"I'm sorry, Malcolm." His voice was tinged with genuine regret, "Ah had no choice…I couldn't…" 

"You _lied_ , Trip!" Fearful blue-gray eyes locked onto Tucker's, unwavering, "There are-- always ch-choices. Y-you s-said we wouldn't come b-back! Y-you lied!" 

Tucker opened his mouth to reply but Reed had turned his face away and lay panting, obviously terrified. It felt like a door had been firmly shut in his face. He swallowed hard, glanced at Cutler who moved forward, a glass of water in one hand and a loaded hypo in the other. As she moved to Reed's side, Tucker stepped back, staying in the room, but putting distance between himself and the armory officer. 

"Lieutenant?" Cutler spoke softly as she held out the glass of water to Reed, her eyes flickered to the commander for a moment, then back to Reed, waiting for him to take the offered cup. 

Reed didn't move or speak, and Cutler frowned, glancing again at Tucker, she shook her head slightly. 

'MALCOLM!" The raw anguish in those two syllables made Reed turn to see Tucker shaking in front of him as though he too were experiencing a panic attack. "I swear to you, I told the Cap'n, tried to get him to let us alone, but he said we were still active-duty and he was takin' us back. Period. He ordered it, an' Ah couldn' fight anymore. He _is_ the Cap'n. We're commissioned officers in Starfleet. I lost mah chance to study this _thing_ with Shondre' and we're gonna have to deal. Just deal, Malcolm." He leaned over to smooth the dark hair from Malcolm’s brow and met with no resistance. 

"S-sorry," Reed said in a whisper for Tucker's ears alone. "Sssorry." 

Blue eyes misted for a moment and lips barely brushed the lieutenant's forehead, heedless of the crewman standing beside them. "No… ah'm sorry, Mal…I failed ya." 

Slowly a hand came up to brush Tucker's cheek, fingers caressing lightly before moving to rest on the back of his neck. "N-never s-say that," Reed murmured. "N-not a f-failure, I…l-love…you." 

Tucker closed his eyes, turning his head slightly to the side as he reached for Malcolm’s hand, taking it in his own, "I gotta witness to that," he choked. "Ya can't deny that ever again, Mister Reed…not ever!" 

"Don't w-want to deny it…I just w-want you to stay with me or b-better yet get me out of-- here," his eyes moved to take in the sickbay. "P-please." 

"I'll try, Malcolm, I promise, but you hafta work at gettin' ahold of yerself, no one's gonna be wild on the idea of lettin' ya outta here if you can't calm down." 

Cutler cleared her throat, stepping forward again as though reluctant to butt in. "Lieutenant, will you take some water now?' She held out the cup to Tucker. 

Taking it, the commander sipped it himself, "It's just water, Malcolm. Nothin' else." He offered the cup to Reed who sipped a few times before pushing it away. 

After watching him for a moment, Cutler laid the hypospray aside and stepped back. "I'll be in the doctor's office if you need anything." she murmured before she moved away, leaving the two men alone. 


	2. Chapter 2

"How's the reading going, Trip?" Archer took a mouthful of salad, chewing as he watched the engineer's face. He'd cleared Tucker's access to the reports and ship's logs a couple of days before, and wondered if the man was coping with the mammoth task of catching up with engineering. 

"The readin's fine," Tucker said. He pushed a morsel of fish around with his fork. The same morsel he’d been poking at for five minutes. He glanced at the captain and then shifted his gaze to the Vulcan sub-commander. "I've read almost right up to current; the ship's been well cared for." 

Archer smiled, "Something wrong with the fish? I had Chef prepare it specially, I don't know if it's the same recipe your mother…" 

"I was wonderin'," Tucker broke in, "When I could maybe go down to engineerin' and take a look around for myself?" 

"Well," Archer laid down his knife and fork and met the younger man's eyes for a fleeting moment before he averted his gaze. "Phlox tells me he has some more tests to run, you've been gone a long while, Trip and you had serious injuries to overcome, it's probably best if you take these things slowly…one day at a time." 

"Cap'n, I'm a returning Chief Engineer, not a recovering alcoholic. Ah'm ready any time you give th' go-ahead, even th' Doc said ah was physically fine. Cap'n, why're ya delaying? What is it about me that scares ya half t' death? Yeah, mah eye's different, Ah realize that, but it's healed an' Ah'm jus' grateful that I got the full use of my hand back… _that_ maybe woulda held me back but…" 

"Trip…" 

"Listen, Cap'n! I spent over a year with no vision in mah left eye, an' suddenly Ah was sick fer three days and Ah had good, usable vision again and a chance to come back to th' thing Ah loved th' most in the world -- bein' th' Chief Engineer on th' greatest ship humans ever designed. 

"Commander," Archer tried to break through the flood of words again. 

"Cap'n, don't tell me after all this, after ya basically forced me an' Malcolm back on th' ship from a place we were buildin' happy lives fer ourselves, that ya changed your mind. Why did ya bring us back if we weren't gonna at least get a chance t' pick up where we left off? Okay, Malcolm's gonna need a lot more work, an' I realize he just might not be able to be the Chief of anything ever again, but at least give us the chance. 

"Trip... these things take time," Archer fumbled. "I've told you that I'm waiting for command's clearance for you to reassume your duties. I'm doing the best that I can, but under the circumstances..." He kept his eyes down as he spoke, unwilling to meet those piercing blue eyes again. 

"Circumstances have nothin' to do with this, Cap'n!" Tucker was on his feet. "You're scared is what! You're scared and you don't know what ta do with us! And if ya can't look at me like your old friend, then at least look at me like you would look _at any other human being_ , Cap'n Archer!" 

"Commander Tucker," This time it was T'Pol who spoke and her level voice cut through where Archer's had failed. 

Tucker took a half step back, pushing his chair along with the movement. He heaved a deep breath and passed his tongue across his lips. "Sub-commander." 

He acknowledged her with a glance, seemed to consider speaking and then shook his head slightly. "I think I'll turn in," he murmured. "I've got a headache." 

Archer nodded, "That's probably a good idea," he said. "I'll… speak with you tomorrow." 

Tucker nodded, walking quickly out of the captain's mess. 

"Something is wrong," T'Pol observed as the doors closed behind the engineer. 

"Wrong?" Archer glanced towards the doors where Tucker had just made his exit. "What makes you think that?" 

T'Pol raised an eyebrow but didn't speak. 

The captain looked down at his plate with a sigh. "It's a little uncomfortable, I guess."

"A little..." 

The captain shook his head "I don't know what's wrong with him, he's been... different, acting differently since they came back I..." 

"And you have not?" 

His head came up quickly and sea green eyes met the impassive gaze of the sub-commander. "Have I?" 

"You would know." 

Archer didn't reply; lifting his glass he took a sip of wine and set it down again. 

After waiting for a few moments for a response, T'Pol spoke softly, "Commander Tucker is reintegrating as well as can be expected with other crew members," she said. She tipped her head slightly to one side. "I have perceived little difference in his interactions with them." 

Archer caught the slight emphasis on the word 'them.' He looked away. 

"These meals are uncomfortable because you are uncomfortable." 

Archer nodded, his shoulders drooping in defeat. "You're right," he said softly. A quick glance into her eyes as she remained silent. "I don't like it, but... I don't know how to change it." 

Again, she inclined her head in that way she had; he felt as though he were under observation and it rankled, but he remained silent. 

"Logically, to change a situation, one changes his actions," T'Pol said. "Commander Tucker reacts to your discomfort, and it escalates the problem. Remove your discomfort, and the situation will be resolved."

"It's a little more complex than that." 

"Humans create unnecessary complexities." 

Raising an eyebrow, Archer met her eyes "Do we?" 

"Yes. Science _and_ logic dictate that if one set of criteria does not work, a different set should be employed." 

Archer gave a small snort of laughter. "You make it sound so simple." 

"Because it is simple; understand your fear and master it." 

"I hardly think Vulcans can be critical of human methods of...." 

"When methods are inefficient, change in methodology is indicated. Change it, Captain, and you will find your answer." 

He frowned, made to speak, but closed his mouth as the sub-commander rose to leave. 

"I have rosters to attend to. Thank you for dinner," T'Pol said. 

Archer nodded. "Goodnight." 

After the doors slid closed behind the Vulcan, Archer got up and walked to a view port where he leaned on the bulkhead and stared into space. T'Pol and Tucker both had valid points when they referred to his discomfort with the current situation, but he was at a loss to explain to either of them – to anyone, exactly what troubled him. 

It was a niggling feeling that had not left him from the first moment that he saw the shadowy outline of his former chief engineer leaning over a computer console next to the warp engine. 

Dealing with Tucker's ghost was hard enough, but now, dealing with the living person here on his ship, walking through the hallways, retaking his place amongst the crew was another matter. Tucker didn't look, sound or seem the same and Archer wondered if he was the only person on the ship who noticed. Even the man's accent had changed, sounding vaguely foreign – no – _alien_. He sighed and passed a hand over his face. 

Tucker's eyes bothered him the most. He had to admit that was the most difficult aspect. There was a way that Tucker looked at him, as though he saw far deeper than just the outward features. 

_How much does he know?_ the captain asked hi mself. _Can he read my thoughts without my knowledge? Can he get inside my head? Why does that eye look so odd? It's not just the scarring, it's the eye itself. It has a different cast, a different color almost - why do I feel like he looks right into my soul and doesn't like what he sees?_

With a sound of frustration, he pushed away from the bulkhead. "He's your best friend, dammit, Jon!" 

But was this man, who called himself Charles Tucker III, _really_ Archer's best friend? The captain paused by the table for a moment as he pondered that question, staring down at the barely touched plate of catfish as he thought it over. 

_I don't know,_ he thought, _I don't know who he is…_ he closed his eyes for a moment and then shook himself lightly and headed for the door. _He looks like Trip; he walks like Trip – everyone else seems to think he is the same man. But_ **_I_ ** _don't_ _know him._


	3. Chapter 3

Sub-commander T'Pol stepped into sickbay and glanced around in search of Doctor Phlox She paused a moment near the privacy screen that surrounded the main  bio-bed but heard no sounds of movement, and only the deep, level breathing of a sleeping human.

Continuing on her way through the sickbay she encountered the doctor as he emerged from his office.

" Sub-commander ," Phlox said softly, mindful of the sleeping man just a few feet away. "I take it you're here to discuss your observations of the Captain and Commander Tucker?"

The Vulcan nodded, slipping her hands behind her back as she met the Denobulan's eyes. "Yes. Under current circumstances it would be, imprudent, to inform Captain Archer of the changes that you have noted in Commander Tucker's physiology."

"I see." The doctor sighed and shook his head. "I had a feeling you were going to reach that conclusion."

"I think it would also be wise, to temper your reports to Star Fleet. Should the Vulcan Science Directorate receive word of this, they would be most interested in examining the commander further. Such anomalies are rarely allowed to pass unremarked."

"That raises a whole new set of problems," the doctor said on a breath. "I can't keep stalling the captain by telling him that I need to run more  tests, and if I can't tell him  _ something _ he will suspect that I haven't told him all that I know." He frowned, "And then there is the matter of Lieutenant Reed, I can't keep him confined to sickbay much longer; not only is he unwilling to stay, but rumors are beginning to spread amongst those crew who saw him come aboard, they know he is not seriously injured and speculation is mounting about why he is being held so long…"

"Tell the captain only what is necessary to set his mind at rest regarding Commander Tucker's fitness for duty," the Vulcan replied. "His eyes are functional and his hand will not prevent his return to active duty." She paused. "As for the lieutenant, you must use your best discretion."

"Are you suggesting I lie to the captain?"

"I am not. Commander Tucker  _ is _ fit for duty,  omitting to tell the entire truth is not a lie."

Phlox nodded. Sub-commander, if you don't mind my asking… why are you going to such lengths to help the commander and Lieutenant Reed?"

"This crew has functioned at well below peak efficiency since Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed were lost. In the time that it took for us to locate them and return them to the ship, efficiency almost doubled. It would be illogical to remove them from the ship again."

Phlox regarded the Vulcan for a moment, the hint of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "Oh, indeed. I must concur!" He said with an emphatic nod. "Extremely illogical."

"Then we are in accord." T'Po l inclined her head slightly by way of ending the discussion. "I have some duties to attend to before I retire for the night."

"Good night, Sub-commander," Phlox said as she moved towards the doors. "I will hand my report to the captain in the morning."

\--/--

Malcolm Reed struggled to open his eyes, fighting the heavy clouds of sleep that held him prisoner. He strained to hear the hushed voices that had initially roused him from his sleep.

"… t he Vulcan Science  Directorate … would be most interested in examining the c ommander further. …rarely …  pass unremarked."

Reed shook his head slightly.  _ The commander…Trip? Are they talking about Trip? _ He fought harder against the thick fog clouding his mind.  _ The Science Directorate wants to study Trip…no oh no, I can't let them take him! _

The drugs won the battle and Reed sank back into sleep; he didn't know how long he was out for, but what he heard when he came around again brought him to complete wakefulness.

"Good night Sub-Commander, I'll hand my report to the captain in the morning."

_ No! _ Reed blinked his eyes several times,  forcing himself to stay awake.  _ They can't take him away from me! I can't live without him! Trip… _ He struggled to sit up, listening carefully for sounds of movement in the sickbay and was certain he heard the door to the doctor's office close a few seconds later. He had to find Trip and warn him of what Phlox and T'Pol were planning. 

Slowly he eased himself off the bio-bed, swallowing hard as vertigo hit him, making his stomach churn with nausea. Gritting his teeth, he straightened up and squared his shoulders, clutching the light sickbay robe around his slight frame as he took a few tottering steps towards the doors.

As he reached the drawn privacy screen, he put a hand on it and pushed it aside, peering around it to find that the sickbay was deserted. With a sigh, he staggered onwards until he reached the door and drunkenly reached for the button to open it.

He pushed the nausea and his fear of leaving the sanctuary of sickbay to the back of his mind as he made his way unsteadily into the corridor. Nothing mattered to him beyond reaching Trip and doing whatever he could to prevent anyone from parting them. He knew he could not survive if that happened again.


	4. Chapter 4

Charles Tucker was surprised when the door chimes rang. No one   
had visited his quarters in the almost three days since he and   
Malcolm returned. He'd mingled with former   
crewmates in the mess, but no one on one interaction with anyone.   
He had begun to suspect that the crew were on orders not to interact   
with him in private; another annoyance to add to the mounting resentment   
at being forced to return to the ship only to be sequestered away from his former   
friends and colleagues as well as the engines.   
  
He walked to the door, thumbing the button to open it.   
  
"Malcolm!" he took in the painfully thin man who stood there clad only in a   
light cotton sickbay gown, shivering slightly; whether from cold or from the   
sheer effort of making his way here, Tucker couldn't tell.   
  
"What're you doin' outta sickbay?" He asked as he stepped aside   
and waved Malcolm into his cabin.   
  
"I... I had to come," Malcolm said in a timid undertone. "Th-there's trouble,   
Trip."   
  
"What trouble? Here, siddown," Tucker made a grab for the man as he stumbled,   
gently guiding him to the bed and sitting him down on it. "Put this on," He handed   
Reed a bathrobe that had been carelessly flung across the end of the bed. "Why'd ya   
go traipsin' around the corridors in a nightshirt? You tryin' ta catch yer death?"   
  
Malcolm sighed, "No... I'm not trying to, 'catch my death,' I needed to talk to   
you. Besides, the corridors here are no-where near as cold as the tunnels   
… on Zilanth."   
  
Tucker sat next to Reed. "Okay what's so important that it got   
you off your sickbed and all the way here to see me? Not that I'm   
complainin'," he added quickly,   
  
"I heard T'Pol and Phlox talking in sickbay," Malcolm said. "They w-were   
discussing you and I... I don't like the sound of it, Trip. I th-think   
they're going to separate us. I can't l-live if they do that, if they take   
you away I'll—I'll..."   
  
"That's enough; do you hear me? You're a Starfleet officer  
and you had better pull yourself together! Lieutenant Reed." He gave   
Reed's arm a gentle shake to break him out of the mounting panic.   
"You're gonna get yourself together and get back to your duties, hear?"   
  
"You know command will never clear me f-for duty, Trip. I'm not fit. They'll   
want to ship me home... you can probably find s-some way to keep your job,   
but not me. If they send me home, I might just as well be dead; my father   
would never let me forget I am a coward and of no use to anyone."

"' _You know command will never clear me for duty, Trip. I'm not fit,_ '" Tucker   
mimicked in a whiney, sing song voice. "Poor little me; never mind the   
people that risked their lives to first get you away from those animals that   
had you and then come find me... and now our friends that have brought us   
back.... poor little me. Me-me-me that's all Ah hear from ya Malcolm...I've   
treated you like china, well it's gonna stop ya hear me...this is a   
partnership you'n'me but I seem to be doin' all the givin'!"   
  
Malcolm sighed and shook his head. “You're so determined to see the bright   
side of _everything._ You never change! When we were freezing to death on   
that damned shuttle, when we were lost in that desert on Zilanth. It's   
_always_ sunshine and roses with you isn't it? Wake up, Trip! This is real   
life and sometimes... just s-sometimes things aren't all peachy!" He dropped   
to a muttered undertone. "Especially where it involves _me_!"   
  
"Well it sure beats layin' down and playin' dead!"   
  
" _What_ do you want me to do, Trip?"   
  
"Ya only get one shot at this life Malcolm so you shouldn't waste it mopin'   
'bout things you can't change, yagotta move on and keep fightin'!"   
  
Reed gave a short, bitter laugh. "Move on? You have utterly no idea what   
you're talking about!"   
  
"Ya gotta fight with me, we gotta get through this or ya might as well kill   
me when ya kill yerself!"   
  
"You know what Phlox told the captain about me? I was suffering the after   
affects of _torture_ ," he chuckled mirthlessly, "See? What happened to me is   
so dreadful the doctor can't even give it its proper name, _he_ understands   
what you can't... someone who's been subjected to the things I was would be   
drummed out, Mister Tucker!"   
  
"Malcolm I know yer frightened and I know yerhurtin' in places I'll never   
git near, but I can git closer if you help me. Nothin' and no one in   
Starfleet is gonna make you believe yer less of a man because of what ya   
been through... not while I'm here... we are a partnership, we have that to   
build on and then we cope with what they want. Together."   
  
Malcolm closed his eyes. "I wish I could believe that, Charles."   
  
"You can believe it, because you know without a doubt that I love you and   
I believe in you. You were there when I was sick; you cleaned me up an'   
nursed me like a baby... shows you what you can do after all the beatin's and   
things you went through, y'humanity is still there."   
  
"Phlox and T'Pol said that... that Command and the Science Directorate want   
to s-study you... if that happens, we may never see each other again." He looked   
up, "I don't want to lose you!"   
  
"Study me huh? Well we'll see about that. It'll take us a while to   
get back to Earth so we got that time to learn, get fit and decide what we're   
gonna do."   
  
Malcolm reached for Tucker's hand. "I _am_ scared, Trip. More scared than I   
can ever remember being... I don't know what to do."   
  
"We'll work that out," Tucker told him. "All you gotta do for now   
is get yourself together, Malcolm. I need ya to help me fight, can ya do   
that?"   
  
Reed swallowed hard and slowly nodded his head. "I... I think so."   
  
"Good. Now you'd better get into bed, or the doc'll be after my ass for not   
makin' sure you get enough rest."   
  
Malcolm nodded and looked into Tucker's eyes. "I can pretend to be brave, if that's what you   
want." He smiled. "I've been doing that all my life."   
  
"It's not just what _I_ want, Malcolm... it has to be what you want, what   
_we_ want." Tucker gently smoothed the dark hair off Reed's forehead as   
he settled into bed. "No more you on your own, no more   
me. It's us Malcolm. If it hasta be us against them, then that's how   
it'll be, but we're not gonna face any of this alone. Okay?"   
  
He smiled as Reed nodded and closed his eyes. 

Waiting until he was certain the lieutenant was asleep,   
Tucker got up and commed sickbay and informed Phlox that Reed was with him and gave   
an assurance that the lieutenant would rest before he closed the channel and   
went to bed, slipping in alongside Reed and hitching close for   
warmth and comfort. For the first time since their return to the ship, he   
drifted into a peaceful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It had seemed like a good idea, just fifteen minutes earlier in the solitude   
of his mess. It had seemed as though he could come here and talk to Tucker   
like nothing had changed between them.   
  
Now, standing outside Trip's cabin, his confidence deserted   
him. Captain Archer shook his head and turned away from the door to find   
himself face to face with Charles Tucker.   
  
The engineer carried a loaded tray. His eyes were   
downcast, looking at the covered dishes. He didn't immediately notice   
the captain.   
  
Archer stepped aside as Trip approached. Tucker paused   
and glanced at Jon, then his eyes went to the tray again before he spoke.   
  
"G'mornin'," he said as he shifted the balance of the tray into one hand and   
reached to key in his access code with the other.   
  
"Hello," Archer said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh, I   
was hoping that... I'm glad I found you in," he said. "I was   
wondering if we could...talk?"   
  
"Not many other places I _can_ be right now," Tucker said shortly, stepping into   
his cabin when the door slid open. "Not much else for me _t'be_ doin'.  
Come in." The invitation was clearly an afterthought.   
  
Archer followed Tucker into the room and pulled up with a hitch. "Oh,   
I didn't realize you had ..."   
  
Tucker set the tray down on the small desk and turned to face the captain.   
He cast a glance towards the bed where a pair of thin legs and the soles of   
two feet were plainly visible poking from under the covers. "Malcolm's still   
asleep," he said. "I was hopin' the smell of pancakes'd   
rouse him."   
  
Archer cleared his throat and passed his tongue across his lower lip. "I   
didn't know that you and he..."   
  
"Are together?" Tucker smiled slightly. "Well, we are together, _Jon_ , and   
we like it that way."   
  
In all the years they had served together, Tucker had never used Archer's first name.  
The fact that he did now, surprised the captain so much that he took a moment to  
collect his thoughts. He shook his head, and met defiant blue eyes. "I'm sorry,"  
he said. "I don't seem to be... I didn't intend for this to go... the way it is."   
  
Tucker's face almost softened but the flicker of sympathy was   
quickly masked. "Really?" His tone dripped sarcasm. 

Archer winced.   
  
A groan from the bed had both men quickly glance that way. Tucker went   
to the bed and sat on its edge. "Malcolm?"   
  
"Mm?" the vocalization was accompanied by slight movement of a dark head.   
  
"I got us some breakfast," Tucker said softly, "And we got company."   
  
The warning tone was not lost on Archer. He frowned slightly. "Do   
you... mind if I sit down?"   
  
"Sure," Tucker replied.   
  
Reed grunted and turned onto his back, rubbing his face with both   
hands as he attempted to come to full wakefulness. "Whatever the hell   
they've been pumping into me in sickbay, promise me you won't let them give   
me anymore," he murmured to Tucker. "I feel as though I've been on a week   
long drunk and I didn't get to have any fun!"   
  
Tucker chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind, now c'mon, up an' at 'em, we have   
a visitor."   
  
Reed struggled to a sitting position and Tucker bustled   
to the desk to fetch a plate from the tray; he took it back to   
Reed and once the lieutenant was settled with pillows to support his back,   
he put the plate into Reed's lap and handed him a knife and fork.   
"Pancakes," he said as he lifted the cover. "And peanut butter." 

Reed nodded and Tucker returned to the desk, finally giving  
Archer his attention as he sat down and took the cover off his  
own plate. "I hope ya don't mind me eatin' breakfast while we  
talk," he said and cut into a piece of sausage.   
  
Archer glanced at Reed and then returned his attention to Tucker. "I   
don't mind," he said and then dropped his gaze to his hands,   
"Trip..." he began and then trailed off, his eyes once again going to Reed  
and then back to Tucker. "Trip, I... I know things haven't been   
easy for you since we came to Zilanth. I guess I've done some things –  
said some things that you have trouble understanding."   
  
Tucker shot the captain a look, but he didn't say anything.   
  
"That would have to be the understatement of one hundred spans," Reed said   
in Zilanthi and Tucker laughed.   
  
"You must give him points for effort, _Rheedh_ ," he replied in the same tongue   
and used the name the Zilanthi had used as the closest approximation   
to Reed's name they could manage.   
  
"Speak English!" Archer rapped causing both men's heads to snap around.   
  
"It's a habit, I guess." Tucker said. "We _did_ spend a lotta time   
on that planet." The flicker of resentment in his tone made Archer wince.   
  
"I'm sorry," Archer said with a sigh and got to his feet. "Perhaps we could   
try this again some other time."   
  
"Jon," Tucker said. "Siddown, willya?"   
  
Again the use of his given name, but this time, without the   
note of challenge it had earlier. The captain resumed his seat.   
  
Tucker laid down his knife and fork and looked into the captain's eyes.   
"What do ya want from us, Cap'n?"   
  
"Want?" Archer raised an eyebrow, looking from one to the other in   
confusion.   
  
"Yeah, you seem to be expectin' somethin', lookin' for somethin'," Tucker   
said quietly, "Somethin' we maybe can't give ya. I dunno how to make this  
any easier; I wish I did." He drew a deep breath and set his   
plate aside, his breakfast only half eaten.   
  
Archer noted that Reed had hardly touched the food on his plate. He shook   
his head. "I don't think I am expecting much from either of you," he said.   
"Except perhaps a little patience and..." he trailed off and looked from one   
to the other in mute appeal. How could he explain his feelings without alienating  
Tucker even further?   
  
He knew that if he'd spent two years away from the ship and came home to   
find that his best friend didn't seem able to trust him anymore he would   
feel hurt and betrayed, but the fact of the matter was he _didn't_ trust   
Tucker; he was not sure he could trust either of them anymore, but it was   
worse with Tucker.   
  
Because of the telepathic communication before the men had come back aboard,    
Archer found that the dynamics of their friendship had changed. After all,   
if Tucker could connect with his thoughts to the extent that he could appear   
to him, however vaguely; projecting himself over light years and across   
time, who could tell what the man might be capable of right there in the   
same room?   
  
Silence stretched between them as Archer churned these thoughts over in his   
head. Uncomfortable silence and all three men were very aware of it.   
  
It was Reed who finally broke it. "Is there any word from Command about when   
we might resume our duties, sir?"   
  
Archer turned to look at the young man and smiled in   
acknowledgement of the attempted change of subject. "Not yet," he said   
regretfully, "I'm hoping any day now..."   
  
"Right," Tucker interrupted him. "Then maybe we could at least be allowed   
less restrictions on our movements?"   
  
"I..."   
  
"Ah c'mon, Cap'n!" Tucker bounded to his feet. "You can't expect to keep us   
cooped up in our quarters or in sickbay while Command is takin' their sweet   
tahmdecidin' what t'do with us?"   
  
"That's not entirely true, Trip," Archer defended himself. "You're not   
confined to quarters anymore; you're permitted to..."   
  
"Use the gymnasium, the mess hall, the observation deck or mah quarters!"   
Tucker cut in, "That's no more'n a guest would expect, Cap'n, but it's much   
_less_ than any member of your _crew_ is permitted!"   
  
Archer bowed his head and let out a heavy breath.   
  
"You're treatin' us as though we're on punishment!"   
  
"I'm not!" Archer got to his feet as well. "I'm simply following protocol."   
  
"For the first time since _I've_ known you," Reed put in. "Since when   
was protocol so important to _you,_ Captain?"   
  
That stung. Archer rounded on Malcolm, fists clenched as his   
frustration mounted. "You're out of line, Lieutenant!"   
  
Tucker was between them in an instant, blue eyes blazing with barely   
contained fury. "Don't you start kickin' him while he's down!" he hissed.   
" _You_ came here in our off duty tahmofferin' t'talk; don't turn it into on   
the record, _now_ **sir!** "   
  
Archer backed down a pace or two and nodded. Tucker had a point.   
He'd come here plainly off the record, outside of duty, to talk to the   
engineer, and using his rank to gain an advantage was wrong.   
  
"I'm alive because'a him! I've got the use o'my hand, and I can see   
because'a _him!_ Nothin' you did has got me where I am now and I just won't   
stand by and let ya treat him like shit. Not in my quarters not on your   
bridge. Not anywhere, or anytime, _Captain!_ "   
  
"Trip," Reed said softly, and that one soft utterance seemed to diffuse the   
anger. The engineer ceased his torrent of words and took a half step back.  
There was silence for a few moments and once again it was Reed   
who broke it.   
  
"Perhaps, this discussion _would_ be better at another time," he said.   
  
Archer nodded and took a step towards the door. "I'll let you know as soon   
as Command sends word about your status," he said before he stepped into the   
hallway and the door slid closed behind him.   
  
"Well," Reed said on a sigh, "That went rather well, wouldn't you say?" The   
irony in his tone was almost palpable and it drew a reluctant laugh from his   
lover.   
  
Tucker moved to sit on the bed. "You haven't touched yer breakfast,"   
he chided. "You need ta eat and get your strength up. I gottafeelin' you   
an' I aregonna spend an awful lotta tahmworkin' out in the gym."


	6. Chapter 6

Captain Jonathan Archer walked into sickbay,  Porthos at his heels, and made his way into the doctor's office. "Doctor Phlox?" 

"Ah, Captain," Phlox got to his feet. "I presume you've come to ask for my report on Commander Tucker." He reached for a data pad and handed it to the captain." I've just finished it."

"Thank you." Archer took the  padd and pressed the power switch, reading for a few moments before he looked up. "That's it?"

"You were expecting something else?" Phlox raised his eyebrows in query. "I assure you all of my findings are in my report. The commander has residual scarring on his face, leftover from injuries he sustained in the shuttle crash. He also has some…interesting regrowth of cells in his left eye, and also some newer cellular structures in his right hand."

"Yes, yes, I can see all that." Archer tamped down a flash of irritation. "You didn't find anything else? Anything unusual?"

"Well, there are several singularities just in what I told you Captain, but nothing more than that I'm afraid. Is there a reason you ask?"

Archer sighed, "No. No, it's nothing, don't worry about it. but… these cellular structures what are they?"

"That is most interesting!" Phlox seemed delighted that the captain had asked. "You see every mother after the birth of her child retains certain… traces of that child in her blood stream, a kind of… blue print if you will, embryonic cells that remain for life even long after the child is born. It's an amazing thing, that offspring are more than just children, but that they become a part of their mothers, wouldn't you say."

"Fascinating, but what does any of this have to do with Trip?"

"Oh, a lot… a lot indeed, you see, Commander Tucker is in a unique position for a male of your species. He's been pregnant!"

"I  _ know _ that, Doctor…"

"Let me finish," Phlox said. "sA a result, the commander had retained cells from his child, even though the child was removed and placed into the care of another, Commander Tucker still had those cells in his bloodstream and, in concert with the bacteria that were introduced into his system when the commander was the victim of a spider bite those cells were reactivated… and the commander has his sight and the use of his hand because of it."

Archer frowned. "Are you trying to tell me that Trip has alien cells now making up a part of his body?"

"Exactly!" Phlox beamed his peculiar smile. "I really wish I could have captured one of those  Zilanthi cave spiders. It would have made a fascinating subject of study."

"But he has  _ alien _ cells…"

" Xyrillian, to be more precise," Phlox countered. " Is there a problem with that, Captain?"

Archer blinked several times, struggling to make sense of what the doctor had said. "That would explain why his eye looks so…"

"Captain?"

"Oh, sometimes when the light hits his eye, it reflects... oddly," Archer murmured.

"Ah…I'm sure that in time, you will become accustomed to it. The eye has a slightly different arrangement of rods and cones. It's certainly nothing to worry about."

"Is Trip…is Commander Tucker still the same? Did you notice  _ anything _ else different about him?" Archer pressed the thought that niggled him; the idea that Tucker was somehow different to how he used to be. He wouldn't say what was troubling for fear of influencing Phlox's answers but he felt sure there must be something the doctor wasn't telling him.

"Captain, are you calling my skills as a physician into question?" Phlox drew himself up to his full height and met the captain's eyes. "I have told you three times that all my findings are  _ in _ my report. If you really have such small faith in my medical skills might I suggest that you…"

"I'm sorry," Archer held up a hand. He couldn’t seem to converse with anyone without raising their hackles lately. Even T’Pol had gotten short with him earlier. He looked at the  padd again and then switched it off. " Of course, I'm not questioning your skills, Doctor. It's just been a rough few days." He frowned slightly and shook his head. "I just can't help but think that Commander Tucker is… different."

"Hm. If you don't mind my asking, Captain, do you have the same problem with your little companion here?" The doctor indicated Porthos as he spoke and Archer looked from the Denobulan to the dog. 

"Porthos? Why would I have a problem with him?"

"Well, in effect, he has the same problem as Commander Tucker, that being, the presence of 'alien' cell structures in his body."

Archer met the doctor's eyes, recalling the night he had spent in Sickbay with the beagle after their visit to the Kreetassan  home world . "That's different."

"How so?"

"Porthos is…"

"A lesser  life form ? Oh, so it's all right to help a lesser  life form by performing a transplant, but not a human? That would appear to be at odds with what I have learned of your species medical ethics."

Archer shook his head. "No that's not what I'm saying… I…"

"That is what it sounds like you're saying. You're prejudiced against Commander Tucker because of something that he cannot change, and that he had no real power over. I had thought your species had laid aside such judgemental attitudes."

"I am not making judgement calls, Doctor!"

"Aren't you?" Phlox nodded and turned aside. "Well, as I said, my report is complete. If you don't require anything else…"

"Thanks," Archer knew enough to realize when he had been dismissed and he wasn't in the mood to argue with the  Denobulan over rank right now. "I'll forward a copy of this to Command."

"Very well, Captain. I've already sent copies to Starfleet Medical and the Vulcan Science Directorate."

Archer nodded and headed out of the sickbay, turning his steps towards his ready room. He needed time to think and that was the one place that he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.

** \--/-- **

He was seated in the mess hall, alone. Something that even a few days before, he would not have contemplated, in fact it was not as easy as he made it look. So long as he kept his hands flat against the tabletop, perhaps no one would notice how they trembled. He licked his lips and glanced towards the door for the hundredth time, wishing that the familiar form would come through it at that moment. He closed his eyes, hoping that no one could see the fine sheen of perspiration on his forehead.

So far, so good he seemed to be bluffing his way through the ordeal nicely. Had five minutes elapsed yet? He cast a casual glance at the data pad in front of him to check the time. Two more minutes; it felt like an eternity.

Tucker had come up with the idea of gradually reintroducing him to other areas of the ship after the captain left them yesterday. 

"You said you can pretend to be brave," Tucker said, looking him in the eyes. "Ah think that may be a good place to start, Malcolm. I think we could work our way up slowly, get ya to do a little more each day."

It had seemed like a good idea, he'd agreed to it, but maybe five minutes was a little over enthusiastic?

_ Finally, _ the door slid open and Tucker approached him, a broad smile on his handsome face.

"Ya did it, Malcolm! Five whole minutes!" He moved to sit in the chair adjacent to Reed 's and patted the lieutenant's hand quickly so that no one would notice. "I'm proud o'ya!"

"Thanks." Reed gulped. "I… I almost didn't make it." He licked his lips and brushed his fingertips across the back of Tucker's hand in a reciprocal gesture. "Any longer and I would have had to leave."

"You did great!" Tucker said with a grin and then his expression shifted, blue eyes clouded with concern and he stared fixedly at the portion of the wall just behind Reed's head.

"Trip?" Instantly uneasy, Reed turned to look over his shoulder, trying to see what held the engineer's attention so fixedly. There was nothing to see but the metal bulkhead. He frowned and shifted his attention to the engineer.

"Trip, what's… ?"

"MALCOLM! Everyone, get down!" Tucker dived across the table and landed on Reed with force, bearing him to the floor at the same moment that the air around them seemed to explode with light, noise and a percussive impact that left Reed's head spinning and his ears buzzing. He fought to stay conscious, aware of the Tucker’s weight on top of him and very little else.

As the confusion gradually eased, he reached out and grabbed Tucker's arms. "Trip? Are you all right?"

Tucker stirred with a small groan and moved slightly. "I… I think so… are you okay?"

The words reached him through the  all-pervasive buzzing in his ears, and Reed managed to nod. "What… happened?"

Other sounds began to reach him; the sound of voices giving orders; moans of pain and cries of fear. He struggled to sit up, gently pushing Tucker aside. "People are hurt, Trip," he said. "We… have to help."


	7. Chapter 7

Crewmembers lay on the floor where they had fallen from their chairs, or stood dazed and unmoving, looking around in confusion.  Smoke clouded the air but dissipated rapidly when the life support system automatically vented the room.

Uninjured personnel  assisted their injured colleagues where they could, or helped to right tables and chairs overturned by the blast. Tucker got up with some difficulty and held out a hand to help Reed stand.

He made sure the lieutenant was not about to collapse before he moved to a comm panel. "Tucker to  sickbay , we have an emergency in the mess hall, multiple injuries." He reported before he  commed the captain. Turning from the comm panel, Tucker found Reed studying the scorched area of wall where a relay had burned out not five minutes before. He walked over to the lieutenant and surveyed the damage himself. With a low whistle he shook his head. "Well, that baby's fried and no doubt about it."

Reed nodded and glanced over his shoulder at his partner. "I wonder what caused it..." he murmured and then fell silent as the captain and sub-commander T'Pol approached. He looked to the relay again and touched some of the still heated wiring.

"Since when did they start installing dampening fields as standard on these relays?"

"What?" Tucker glanced at the captain as Archer and T'Pol came up to them. "As far as I know, they don't. It's not in any of the reports I read."

"Then, what contained this explosion?" Reed asked. "The extent of damage here," he ran his fingers over twisted wire and metal, "and here, is such that anyone within a  five-meter radius should have been seriously injured... or worse."

Tucker gulped and Captain Archer stepped forward abruptly. "I want both of you in my ready room," he said. " _ N _ _ ow. _ "

With a glance, and  furtive touch of fingers against the back of Malcolm's hand, Tucker followed the captain and sub-commander out of the mess hall.

Archer kept silent all the way to his ready room but he rounded on Tucker the minute the doors closed behind them. "Just what the hell went on out there, Commander?" 

"Sir?" Tucker fell into parade rest and Reed followed suit.

"Don't play games with me, Trip," the captain growled. "Something happened out there, and I'm betting you know more about it than anyone else on this ship. I want an explanation!"

"Sir, Lieutenant Reed and I were in the mess hall, having lunch actually, and there was an explosion, A relay blew out I guess."

Archer narrowed his eyes and began to pace the floor. "T hat much I could find out from  _ anyone _ who  was there; I want to know what  _ happened. _ "

"With respect, sir," Reed cut in. "The commander has explained what happened. We were about to get lunch when the explosion happened. Commander Tucker..."

"Enough!" Archer held up his hand and the restless pacing ground to a halt. "I want to know what you know..." he fixed Tucker with an icy glare, "About what contained that explosion."

"Captain..." Reed stepped forward but Tucker caught hold of his arm, restraining him.

"It's all right, Malcolm," he said. "Let me handle this." He looked at the captain, "Sir, would you mind lettin' Lieutenant Reed attend  sickbay ? I'll explain what I can."

Archer spared Reed the merest glance. "You can go," he said.

"Sir, I..."

" _ D _ _ i _ _ s _ _ missed _ , Lieutenant!"

"Aye, Captain." Reed snapped to attention and left without a backward glance.

"All right, Commander, we're waiting," Archer said as the door closed behind Reed.

"I don't exactly know what happened, sir." Tucker lowered his gaze from the cold green eyes that held his own. "I... knew it was going to happen, but I dunno how or why I knew, I swear I didn't _make_ it happen, sir. I just knew it would and I told everyone to get down, and that's when all hell broke loose."

"Do you know what dampened the explosion?" Archer took a couple of paces forward, forcing Tu cker to meet his eyes. "Do you  _ know _ why no one was killed out there?"

"Sir, I... I this has happened once before. I don't know what it is, but I just know that I sense someone's  gonna get hurt, and I don't want that to happen and... somehow, it doesn't."

Silence stretched for several moments and Archer stepped away from the engineer, moving to stand next to his desk. "When did it happen before."

"I'd rather not say, sir."

"I don't really care what rather, Commander, you are going to tell me when this happened before!"

Tucker swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to find a way around the situation. He had given Reed his word that he would never tell anyone that Reed tried to kill himself. He bit his lip, mind racing and then he knew what to say.

"The day you arrived on  Zilanth , sir, and I ran back into the burrows. I... I knew that Malcolm was in trouble. I... it happened then."

It was only half a lie, he told himself and it kept his confidence with Reed intact. He held his breath, praying for a miracle and that Archer would be convinced.

"Precognition is not unheard of amongst humans." To Tucker's surprise, T'Pol came to his defense. "The Vulcan database contains numerous accounts of it."

Tucker let his breath go slowly, watching the captain's face. He  was well aware that T'Pol's intervention was a mere distraction and he wondered if Archer would drop the matter or continue to pursue it until he found out that Tucker himself had dampened the explosion. Tucker knew he had done it; unlike the first time when he had been unaware of the  hypospray being fused by anything he did. This time,  he'd been aware of something happening. Something he  couldn't explain in words, something he  wasn't sure he even understood.

He closed his eyes when he saw tensions leech out of Archer's shoulders. 

He recalled a strange  prickling at the nape of his neck and something had drawn his attention to the  portion of the wall where the trouble was. When Reed asked him what was wrong, he had seen a vivid flash, an explosion and Reed hit by flying debris. He shouted Malcolm's name and leaped to knock him aside pushing him to the floor as he yelled a warning for everyone in the room to get down.

That was when he had felt something like a rush of wind, which had nothing to do with the explosion. There was an impact as that wind met the fireball that burst from the wall. Then darkness until he heard Reed ask if he was all right.

When he opened his eyes, Tucker found Archer standing right in front of him, his sea-green eyes gazing steadily into his own.

"Is there anything you want to add, Commander?" The captain's voice was quiet, with an  inflection Tucker had never heard before.

"No, sir."

Archer nodded and stepped back, and it seemed like a  shutter came down over his eyes. "All right, you can go."

"Sir." Tucker turned towards the door. He glanced at T'Pol, meeting her eyes for an instant and she inclined her head slightly to him. "Sub-commander," he said and then he walked out of the room. Something told him that this  wasn't over by a long shot. Tucker entered  sickbay just in time to find Reed undergoing an examination with Phlox. Other crewmembers lay on biobeds, most with minor injuries, bandaged limbs or heads and Cutler and some of the other  sickbay staff tended them.

"I am sure the ringing  _ is _ 'most unpleasant', Lieutenant," Phlox was saying as Tucker entered, "but from what I've heard about that explosion, you  _ should _ have been rendered completely deaf." He administered a hypospray as he spoke. "Such an event would have ruptured the eardrums of most humanoids."

Tucker walked over to the  bed and stood next to Phlox.

Reed shot Tucker a look of enquiry, to which the engineer responded with a shake of his head. He would explain later, for now, he was more concerned with Reed's health. 

"Is he gonna be all right, Doc?"

"In time," Phlox replied and  indicated that Reed could get down. "The ringing should ease in a matter of hours. Unlike some of your unfortunate forbears, I can  _ treat _ the condition and you won't have to put up with it for more than a day or two at the very most."

Tucker had an instant of missing  Shondré’s gentle:  _ He will be well!  _ It came with an ache under his ribs that made him gasp for breath.

Phlox picked up a scanner and turned to Tucker. "Now, if you don't mind?" he waved the commander towards the spot Reed had just vacated. "I'd like to take a look at you as well." The doctor waited until Tucker had seated himself on the bed before he activated the scanner. "Frankly, I'm quite amazed that we didn't receive  _ one _ serious casualty out of this incident. Mainly bruises and contusions, one or two cuts and a mild concussion. Most unusual." His periwinkle blue eyes met those of the engineer as he scanned. "No doubt, you'd know something about that, Commander," he added with a small smile. "Not that I am complaining in the least."

Tucker cleared his throat and glanced at Malcolm before he returned his gaze to the doctor's face. "I. .. uh ..."

"Oh, don't worry, Commander, I am already  well aware of your... abilities. Shondré gave me a brief history on both you and Lieutenant Reed; add to that, my own findings since you returned to us." his tone was confidential, for Tucker and Reed alone. "You may rest assured that no one who doesn't need to be, is aware of what I know."

Reed gasped and stepped forward. D-do you think it's w-wise to keep records... of..."

"What records, Lieutenant? Denobulans have impeccable powers of memory."

Reed relaxed visibly. "Very good," he whispered.

"It was sub-commander T'Pol's recommendation that nothing be recorded about this on the ship's database. I agreed of course; as you were always so fond of saying, Lieutenant, 'one can't be too careful.'"

Reed met the doctor's eyes for a moment, and his expression underwent sever al change s before he merely said. "Thank you." He shot Tucker a speaking glance and the engineer nodded. 

"Doc, if you're finished?" Tucker began to get down from the biobed.

"Of course! You're both free to go." Phlox waved him away. "Remember though, I am here if either of you need anything."

Both men nodded in acknowledgement. "We'll keep that in mind, Doc," Tucker said as they headed for the door. "Thanks."


	8. Chapter 8

The walk from  sickbay to Tucker's quarters was made in silence; a silence fraught with questions as each man turned the events of the past few hours over in his mind.

Tucker keyed in his access code and they both stepped through the door when it slid open.

"Well that was pretty damned inter..." his words were cut off as Reed turned and pulled him into his arms, kissing him fiercely.

Taken by surprise, Trip was passive at first, allowing Reed's lips and tongue to take his mouth at will, but passion quickly kindled and he returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Wrapping his arms around the slender waist of his partner he pressed close, moaning with want.

His breathing quickened as Reed deepened the kiss. Pulling him hard against his lean body both hands pressed to Tucker's butt, he ground his hips against him kissing Tucker into panting submission and then, when his brain began to scream for oxygen, Reed pulled back. Gently, he touched two fingers to Tucker's lips in warning before he released him.

Silenced; speechless in fact, the engineer watched as Reed moved to the desk, peering under  it and running his fingers along the underside. He then opened the drawers and examined them in the same way.

That done, Reed moved to the locker and opened it, quickly checking inside. He treated the bathroom to the same brisk search and then returned to Tucker. He nodded. "All right, we can talk freely."

"Malcolm?" Still shaken from the passionate embrace, Tucker shook his head slightly in confusion. "What was that all about?"

"We can't be too careful," Reed said simply. "Who knows what lengths the captain may go to  in order to find out things he doesn't  _ need _ to know? I had to silence you somehow... before you just blurted everything out..." he smiled. "I wanted to check for listening devices before we discuss anything."

Oh... well, a simple shut up, Trip  woulda done the trick." Tucker let his shoulders  droop as he moved to his desk chair. "I can hold my words if I  hafta ." The  Zilanthi turn of phrase came without either man being aware of it.

"But it wouldn't have been anywhere near as pleasant," Reed replied. He caught Tucker in his arms before he could sit. "I meant that kiss, Charles, it wasn't only to silence you, but it was the best, and quickest way." Lips gently brushed across Tucker's again. "Don't be hurt, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Tucker sighed and leaned in, resting his head against Reed's shoulder for a moment. " Ya think the  cap'n would really plant bugs in my cabin?"

"He might."

"I wish we hadn't..."

"No, you don't." Reed gently pushed him back so that he could look into Tucker's eyes. "You don't really wish that... like me, you probably wish circumstances were different, but I'm not sorry we came back, Charles.  It's what you wanted, what you dreamed about... it kept you going all that time on Zilanth. Thinking about it rationally, I would have been selfish to make you stay."

Tucker studied Reed's face for a long moment, and a small smile touched his lips. He knew this man. This was _Reed_. The Reed he remembered a nd loved from so long ago. Tucker  didn't know quite how this focused and rational man had found his way to the surface, but he was glad that he had. 

He nodded and let his arms go around Reed's waist, pressing close as he whispered. "I've missed you." Tucker  didn't know how long it would last, but he would prolong the moment  as long as he could. "I wish I knew what to do about the cap'n," he murmured after a few moments.

"You could try talking to him," Reed suggested and was quickly pushed away as Tucker looked at him in astonishment.

"Talkin to him?  Whaddya think I just did? I've  _ tried _ talkin' to him!"

"No. From what you told me about  previous encounters, I  don't think this one would have gone any differently.  You've tried 'hollerin'' at him, C harles. Why don't you try just  _ talking _ to him?"

"Well...maybe I do  holler , but sometimes it takes a clue-by-four to get through to some people!"

"And sometimes it just takes a friend, Trip. Captain Archer has lost a friendship that was  very important to him... it must be confusing. Isn't this confusing you?"

Tucker lowered his gaze, silent for a moment before he nodded slightly. "Yeah."

" So. .. why not try it? At least, think about it, hm?"

Tucker looked into his lover's eyes and nodded. "I'll think about it," he allowed. "But it just might turn out that he doesn't want  t'talk . He seemed pretty closed off when I left his ready room earlier."

"Well, if that's the case there's nothing you can do about it," Reed said. "But let's give him the benefit of the doubt for now." 

He gently pulled Tucker back into his arms. "In the meantime..." He brushed a gentle kiss across the engineer's lips, "Where did I leave off?"


	9. Chapter 9

He wakened slowly, his body sticky with the remnants of the previous night's activities and he groaned, stirring and tried to roll onto his side only to find himself pinned in place by a heavy arm. Stifling a cry of alarm, he struggled free and bolted upright.  
  
He'd slept past sunrise and his keeper would be angry. His shaking hands  
already scrabbled for clothing before rationality returned. He glanced around at familiar surroundings as he became aware of the light thrum of engines through the deck plating under his feet. He let the tension ease from his shoulders as his panic receded.  
  
Malcolm Reed drew a deep breath and let it go slowly, turning to glance over  
his shoulder at the sleeping man who shared his bed. He gave a  
snort of amusement at the sight of tousled blonde hair and an unshaven face.  
Charles Tucker sprawled on his back; mouth slightly open in slumber.  
  
Reed stretched out beside the sleeping man, reclining on one elbow as he  
studied his lover’s face and pondered the previous evening.  
  
For the first time since Reed had returned to Zilanth to find the engineer,  
he had been able to give himself completely to the act of love  
making. He smiled and gently traced the pattern of scarring on Tucker's  
cheek.  
  
There had been no penetration; he was not ready or able as yet, to  
go that far, but they had shared a night of passion and closeness that  
surpassed anything up to that point.  
  
Tucker moved his head and grunted, flipping a hand at the light  
tickling on his cheek and Reed chuckled, allowing the fingers to return as  
soon as Tucker settled. He tickled lightly again, watching as Tucker shook  
his head in a more determined motion.  
  
"Tucher, murhavadi," he said in Zilanthi; _'Tucker, wake up.'_  
  
"Hmm?" A hoarse murmur, Tucker’s voice rusty with sleep. Reed let his fingers trail from the man's cheek to his shoulder shaking him lightly.  
  
"Come on, sleepy head," he whispered. "We're both in desperate need of the  
shower."  
  
With a sigh, the engineer opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear the  
remnants of sleep. "G'mornin'" he said with a sleepy smile.  
  
"Hello," Reed leaned down and brushed his lips across Tucker's in greeting.  
"Sleep well?"  
  
"Without rockin'," Tucker agreed as he sat up, scratching his head.  
  
"Good." Reed swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm for the shower,  
care to join me?"  
  
Tucker followed Reed into the small bathroom. "Do you realize what  
you did yesterday?"  
  
Reed turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. "What did I do?"  
  
"You walked around the ship alone, made your own way to sickbay... saw the  
doc without any help." Tucker smiled and stepped into the shower behind Reed  
and let out a small yelp as the water hit his skin. "Do you _have_ to turn  
the water up so hot it takes mah skin off?"  
  
"Sorry..." Reed made an adjustment to the water temperature and then he  
looked thoughtful for a moment. "You're right," he said. "I didn't think  
about it at the time." A small smile touched his lips and he handed Tucker a  
cake of soap. "I suppose it just didn't enter my mind with everything else  
that was going on."  
  
"Well, it's not like I'm complainin'," Tucker rubbed the soap across Reed's  
chest as he spoke, working up lather. "The evenin's entertainment sure was  
nice too." He reached to soap Reed's neck and playfully washed behind the  
younger man's ears before his expression sobered a little.  
  
"What's wrong?" Reed took the soap from the engineer and used it to wash the  
other man's chest.  
  
"Nothin'," Tucker smiled to add credence to his words. "I was just thinkn'  
about what you said last night...about talking to th' cap'n."  
  
"Ah... and?"  
  
"I think I should go see him."  
  
Reed nodded. "When?"  
  
"I thought maybe tonight, when he's off duty." Tucker looked into Malcolm's eyes. "Will you be okay on your own for a while?"  
  
"Of course." The answering smile was genuine and Reed pulled Tucker close  
against him, letting the hot water flow over them both as he gently brushed  
his lips across Tucker's mouth. "I know I gave you some anxious moments when  
we came back, but I think I'll be all right," he murmured then sighed as  
the water abruptly shut off. "Times up it seems," he said. "That's one thing  
I _will_ miss about Zilanth. No more long luxurious showers."  
  
"Well, I'm sure we'll get shore time at some point," Tucker said. "Water  
restrictions won't apply then."  
  
"I live for the day," Reed said as they stepped out of the cubicle. He  
tossed Tucker a towel. "Hurry up and get dressed. I'm famished!"  
  
"You sure are bossy this mornin'!" Tucker caught the towel and began to  
vigorously dry his hair with it.  
  
"Well _someone_ has to keep you motivated!" Reed quipped and then leaped  
aside with a yelp when Tucker popped the towel at him. "Missed!"  
  
"You got lucky is all. I'll get ya when ya least expect it."  
  
The two men completed getting dressed whilst engaging in a constant  
crossfire of playful banter and were heading out to the mess hall when the  
comms panel beeped.  
  
 _Sato to Lieutenant Reed._ Hoshi's voice came over the comm.  
  
Thumbing the call button Reed responded. "Reed, here,"  
  
 _Sir, I have a call for you from Earth. Madeline Reed._  
  
Reed cast a glance at his companion and his lips curved in a tentative  
smile. "Do you mind?"  
  
"Nah, why would I?" Tucker shrugged. "I'll bring ya somethin' back from the  
mess."  
  
"Thanks." Reed turned to the comm panel. "Put it through here, Ensign, thank  
you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the situation from a slightly different point of view.

**Clomp clomp, clomp, clomp, scrape, turn, clomp clomp clomp**

Porthos lifted his head from his forepaws and let out his breath with a soft, whimpering sigh. He cocked his head at his human and watched as Jon turned to pace back the other way.

Humans were terribly hard to understand sometimes, and lately, his human was harder to understand than ever.

Jon had been sad for so long, Porthos dropped his head back onto his paws. He had hoped that maybe his human would cheer up now that Trip and Malcolm were home, but he hadn't. If anything, Jon was worse now than before. The beagle groaned. His tummy hurt; dinner time was way past. Would he get _any_ dinner tonight?

 **clomp clomp…** Jon stopped pacing and turned to look at Porthos. "I suppose you want your dinner, huh?"

Porthos lifted his head and wagged his tail hopefully.

Jon didn't move to the locker and reach for the shiny metal bowl. He didn't get the bag of chow out of the locker. Instead, he moved to crouch in front of Porthos and scratched his ears.

"I'm sorry," he said. Porthos licked his hand in forgiveness. "I guess I've just had a lot on my mind today." For a moment the smile Porthos missed so much touched his human's face and the little dog responded with a soft yip of encouragement.

"Things have changed a lot, boy." Jon said. "Trip has changed. He's not the same man anymore."

Porthos tipped his head to the side and his tail thumped against his bed a couple of times at the name, Trip. It was good that Trip came home. He smelled like grassy fields and clean earth, he laughed and rolled on the floor with Porthos. At least, he had one time, while Jon was out of the room and it was just Trip and Porthos, but it had stopped as soon as Trip heard Jon coming back.

The dog pushed his muzzle into Jon's hand to show that he understood that his human was feeling confused, and he looked into Jon's eyes, trying to let him see that Porthos thought Trip was okay. Porthos wouldn't let anyone near his Jon unless he was sure they were friendly. Didn't Jon know that?

"I mean, we got two men back from that planet. To all appearances, the same two men we lost two years ago. Malcolm's the same, such as he is… but Trip."

"Wuff!" Porthos sat up straighter at the mention of another name he knew. Malcolm.

Malcolm was sick… a sickness deep inside. He could smell it, sour and sharp, like fear. Porthos could remember when that human was very different; now, he didn't smell right, he didn't feel right. He wasn't strong like he used to be. Malcolm wasn't a pack leader now the way he once had been. Now, he was an underdog. He would not be tolerated for long in a dog pack, but human packs were different that way.

Porthos rested a paw on his human's knee and barked. It's okay, Jon, he tried to say.

Jon laughed. Sometimes, I could swear you know exactly what I'm saying, fella." He rubbed Porthos' ears and straightened up. "So, you've noticed it too?" He asked as he moved to get Porthos' dinner.

No. Jon had it all wrong. The beagle slumped back down in his bed with a grunt. Somehow, he would have to make Jon see what he meant. If only Trip would come!

But Trip didn't come anymore. He had visited a couple of times, but it had all ended with growling voices that made Porthos hide in his bed. It wasn't good… it wasn't fun, and Porthos didn't know how to get the humans together without them growling.

Porthos got up to eat the dinner that Jon poured into his bowl. It was gone too soon, as always and he spent some time licking the last remaining crumbs from the bowl before he sat on his haunches and looked up at Jon appealingly.

As usual, the plea for seconds was turned down. Porthos sighed. He trotted over to the door. Maybe if he took Jon for a walk, they would find Trip somewhere.

When the door opened, Porthos trotted into the hallway, nose to the floor. He was a beagle, and if a beagle couldn't find one human amongst all the others on this ship, then he was not worthy of the title 'hound.' He focused on the bundle of nerves that sorted and deciphered messages in scent and pointed his tail straight at the ceiling.

Hoshi had passed this way a little while ago and so had T'Pol. He picked out Liz Cutler's scent too, and Eddie. He hesitated a little over that one; Eddie had a cheese sandwich and… oops he'd dropped a crumb!

A quick lick and it was gone. Porthos refocused his attention. Trip's scent wasn't present, but it was only a matter of time.

Jonathan Archer walked behind his dog, watching the beagle as he tracked along the hallway, nose down and tail up. He was as focused as any hound on the hunt would be, and Archer smiled to himself. "You must have a bottomless stomach," he chided the dog when he noted the quick flick of a pink tongue as Porthos snatched up some morsel from the floor. "And I think I need to remind people not to eat in the hallways again."

Porthos' tail waved to show he had heard, but he didn't look up. He was the picture of concentration as he trotted ahead.

Archer acknowledged the greeting of a passing crewman with an absent nod as his mind returned to the subject of Commander Charles Tucker III.

For a while, he had almost been ready to accept Phlox's explanation of Tucker's differences. The alien cell structures were not such a big deal, were they? Porthos had 'alien' cell structures too since the transplant, and it hadn't made any difference to the dog. Maybe Tucker was okay, maybe it was just Jon who couldn't get around the alien part to the human man.

Then that explosion happened in the mess hall. An explosion that should have killed or seriously injured people and yet, somehow it hadn't, and Tucker was responsible. It wasn't a bad thing. Archer had to admit that he was grateful no one was badly hurt, yet there was still that niggle about abilities that he didn't understand.

Archer drew a deep breath and let it go slowly. He needed to think rationally. He needed time, and time was a commodity he was running short on.

Command were sniffing around, asking uncomfortable questions; politely framed up until now, about the condition of the two men they'd retrieved from Zilanth, about Malcolm Reed's mental health – that was a sticky situation that called for careful handling. Archer was no fool. He knew a lot depended on how he responded to those questions.

Much as he may distrust Tucker at present, he wasn't ready to hand either man over to Admiral Forest or the Vulcans.

He shook his head. _If I could just talk with Trip, without us getting into a yelling match. If I could ask him to explain things…_ The captain frowned. That sounded a lot simpler than it really was. He had allowed the situation between them to get way out of hand. Tucker was on the defensive and Archer knew the engineer well enough to realize that made things difficult enough without him asking questions that couldn't help but sound paranoid.

"But I have to know the answers," he said softly.

"WUFF!"

The sharp little yip from Porthos brought Archer back to the present, caught unawares as the dog suddenly changed direction, darting down a side hallway that was not usually part of their nightly walks.

"Porthos?"

'Wuffuff rrruf!' was the only response as the beagle broke into a flat run, his nose tracking the floor sometimes, but mostly he held his head up, scenting the air.

"Porthos! Heel!"

Archer had never seen the beagle behave this way. Porthos completely ignored the command and ran around a corner in the corridor, his claws scrabbling for purchase on the metal deck plating.

The captain had little choice but to follow. He lengthened his stride, getting ready to growl and make his displeasure evident as soon as he caught the beagle. This was completely against the careful training he had put the dog through prior to their mission. He rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the sight that met his eyes.

Porthos was alive with joy, his entire body trembling as he yapped excitedly and jumped up and down, trying to lick the face of the man who was the focus of his entire attention.

Archer bit back the reprimand he'd been about to bark, and took a half step back. Neither dog nor man had noticed him as yet, and he remained silent, watching.

"Hey, Porthos," Tucker said softly, attempting to pet the wildly squirming dog as Porthos did his best to cover Tucker's hands, face, and anything else he could reach with joyful kisses.

The engineer hunkered down, laughing as the dog leaped into his arms, legs, tail and tongue flailing in a happy dance.

"What are ya doin' out here alone?" Tucker asked, stroking the dog into some semblance of calm. "Your dad's gonna be worried about ya."

Porthos licked Tucker's face and settled into the man's arms as Tucker straightened. "Well I'd best take ya home, huh? I was headin' that way anyhow."

Archer chose that moment to let Trip know he was there. He cleared his throat and stepped forward. "I see you found the mutineer," he said with a tentative smile. "He got away on me, and he needs discipline."

"Aww he just got distracted." Tucker immediately leaped to Porthos' defence. "Ah'm sure he'll be good now."

Archer chuckled. "You're not going to get him off the hook, Commander, so just forget about it."

At the use of ranks, something unreadable flickered in Tucker's eyes. Archer lowered his gaze. An uncomfortable silence fell between them and then Tucker stepped forward and handed the dog to the captain.

"Well, here he is anyway,. I... I oughta be…"

"Wait." Jon took the dog and set him on the floor with a firm command to 'sit' before he met Tucker's eyes. "Trip…please, I… I was wondering if we could talk." The captain watched as Tucker's expression changed, saw the lower jaw flex as the man swallowed and then Tucker nodded.

"I was comin' t'ask ya the same thing," he said. "I'd like that."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm attempts to socialize without Trip's company.

As the door slid closed behind Tucker, Malcolm Reed eased himself down in the chair in front of the computer console.

He paused for a moment before he reached to activate the screen. He'd not heard from his sister, or any of his family for that matter, since before he left on that ill-fated shuttle mission two years earlier.

Of course, they had thought him dead, so it was little wonder that his mail files were empty when he returned to _Enterprise_ , and yet a part of him felt slightly disappointed that no-one had written even a note.

Tucker had received messages, which Ensign Sato held in archive. The commander had been delighted to read them, although saddened to think of the pain his family must have felt while he was missing.

With a small intake of breath, Reed pressed the button and watched as the screen lit up.

His sister looked at him in silence for several seconds before she leaned a little closer to the screen and said in a shocked undertone. "Good lord, Malcolm! You look like death!"

"S'lovely to see you, too," Reed replied with more than a hint of irony in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Madeline Reed leaned back a little in her chair. "It is good to see you, dear." She averted her gaze for a moment, and he could tell she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. _A Reed to the core,_ he thought, _never betray any emotion publicly._ He waited while she composed herself.

"Are you all right?" Madeline asked when she was able to speak. "We can't get anything out of your superiors about you except that you've returned to your ship and that your condition is 'classified.'" She scowled and Reed recognized their father in her expression. "I had to threaten to come out there personally before they would even allow me to speak with you!"

Reed smirked. "Well, I'm glad they relented. I couldn't imagine anything more terrifying than to have you aboard the ship."

"So, how are you?" Madeline persisted.

"I'm fine," Reed said noncommittally. "How is everyone at home?"

"Malcolm..." Madeline’s lips drew into a tight line. "You should know by now that your standard pat response won't wash with me."

"Trust me, that is something I _haven't_ forgotten."

"Good. Now spill."

"I am much as you see me, Hatter." Her face softened at his use of his childhood name for her. "Tired, underfed and... underweight. I'll be all right," he was quick to assure. "In time."

"What happened out there, Malcolm?" Her eyes clouded with concern. "Where were you? We were... _I_ was so worried, and Aunt Sherry refused to accept that you might not return." A pause heavy with feeling as Madeline again struggled with her emotions. "She has been a brick."

Reed smiled. "Give her my love, won't you? I've been meaning to write, but..." He looked away for a moment, hiding his expression and then turned back with an overly bright smile. "You know how it is on a Starship. Never any time."

Madeline sighed and leaned closer to the screen again. "Malcolm, this is me. Please don't shut me out...you know that whatever happened, I can face it." She gazed at him for a moment "I can see by looking at you that it must have been... horrible. Don't protect me, please?"

"I was taken prisoner," he said with a sigh that spoke volumes. "Held on an alien planet for several months before... some friends managed to affect a rescue. After that, I spent the remainder of the time on a friendly planet with Commander Tucker. We were well cared for until _Enterprise_ returned for us."

"Prisoner?" The word hung between them as Madeline waited for him to go on.

"I really can't tell you any more than that, Hatter." Neither did he want to. "As you know, it's classified; even _I_ am bound by that."

Madeline nodded and changed the subject. "How is the commander? It’s a comfort to know you were with a friend at least."

"He's recovering," Reed said. "He sustained serious injuries when our shuttle went down, but he is doing very well now."

"I'm glad to hear he is well," her expression grew speculative. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

This time his smile was genuine. "I really can't keep anything from you, can I?" he lowered his voice and leaned forward in the chair as though someone might overhear. "Commander Tucker and I are... exploring the possibility of a relationship."

His sister laughed and shook her head. "I _knew_ something was going on..." she paused in thought and then she grinned. "'Exploring the possibility…' she quoted. "Malcolmese for shagging like..."

"Madeline!" he cut her off abruptly.

Madeline chuckled. "I see you still rise to a bait beautifully."

Reed shared her laughter for a moment, and then he turned serious. "He has been my mainstay," he murmured. "I don't believe I could have survived any of this if not for Trip." He swallowed hard as emotions threatened to undo him completely. "I owe him my life, quite literally."

"Then it seems I owe him my gratitude as well," Madeline said. "Please tell him that..."

A muted beep from the console cut her off and Reed sighed softly. "I'll tell him," he said, "I'm afraid the computer says time's up." His eyes caught and held hers hungrily for several seconds. "It _is_ good to hear from you!"

"I'll call again in a few days, dear."

"Say hello to mother for me."

"Of course." Madeline smiled and the screen dimmed as the comm link was severed.

Reed rolled over, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he sat up. He glanced at the wall chronometer by the bed and frowned. It was past dinner time, and Tucker still hadn't returned from his meeting with the captain. Reed was hungry, but the thought of venturing out to the mess hall alone was somewhat daunting.

Without the adrenaline that had carried him through the previous day's events, the lieutenant was reluctant to face the prospect of meeting other crew members without Tucker's bolstering presence.

He got to his feet and paced the length of the cabin a couple of times, debating with himself over whether to attempt going to get something and bring it back.

The door chime took him by surprise so that he started violently and came to a halt, staring at the door in silence.

He hesitated for so long that the chime sounded again. Reed walked to the door and thumbed the control to open it.

"Hi Malcolm!" Ensign Travis Mayweather said with a grin.

"Travis." Reed smiled in response before he gestured for the ensign to enter. "What brings you here?"

Mayweather turned to face Reed and smiled. "I thought I'd come and ask you if you wanna come to movie night? It's Tuesday."

"So it is." Reed frowned. "But I'm not sure that's really a good idea, Travis, you know the captain doesn't seem to want us interacting with the crew just yet..."

"I know it seems that way, but he hasn't _said_ so and... And besides, the movie is on in the mess hall, that's not off limits to you... and it's a good movie. Lot's of action..."

"I honestly think I have seen enough 'action' in the last two years to keep me sated for the rest of my life. Thank you, Travis, but... I don't think so."

Travis looked disappointed and Reed thought that he saw a hint of hurt in his friend's dark eyes.

"Well... okay, but if you change your mind?"

"You'll be the first to know." Malcolm smiled, resisting the urge to apologize.

Mayweather made no attempt to move. They stood looking at one another until the silence became uncomfortable and Malcolm cleared his throat.

"Besides, the last time I visited the mess hall I very nearly got my head blown off!"

"Occupational hazard." Mayweather grinned and shook his head slightly. "You wouldn't have let that bother you once... in fact it would have been just the opposite; made you the more determined to get out there amongst things.

"I'm expecting Trip any moment. I don't like to go without letting him know where I will be."

"Do you hafta ask the commander's permission to go to the bathroom too?" The first hint of anger edged Mayweather's tone. "It's just a _movie,_ Malcolm!"

"That's not it at all... it's bloody unfair of you to say that! Trip and I are in a relationship. It's considerate to think of him."

  
Mayweather nodded, relenting. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that; it's just that... well all this time you've been gone, I would think about you and remember the times when we went to movie night together... I missed that I... I thought you might wanna..."

Malcolm sighed _It's always got to be so hard, hasn't it? Do the right thing and feel lousy...do the wrong thing and risk everything; why can't I have a choice **just** once that doesn't wind up with my feeling like an arsehole whichever way I go?_ He watched as Mayweather made his way slowly to the door.

"Wait a minute, would you? I need to comb my hair at least before I venture out in public." He attempted a smile. "I wouldn't want to frighten anyone."

"Really?" Mayweather's expression brightened immediately. "Sure, I'll wait!"

 _I sincerely **hope** this is the right thing to do_. Reed thought as he walked into the bathroom.  
  
After washing his face and generally tidying his appearance, the lieutenant stepped back out into the living area. "All right," he said taking a deep breath. "Let's go, shall we?"

They made their way to the mess hall without difficulty, although Reed was aware of a slight constriction in his chest, and increased heart rate. All in all, he was pleased that he managed the distance without breaking into a cold sweat or getting the shakes.

He took several deep breaths and balled his hands into fists as they reached the door of the mess. Straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders, he stepped through the doors slightly behind Mayweather, and paused to look around. The room seemed incredibly crowded and he was instantly tense.

Several crewmembers turned to look at him as he stood just inside the doors. He swallowed hard, passing his tongue across suddenly dry lips as he fought to keep his head up.

One man leaned closer to his companion and whispered something. Reed frowned. He became aware of pain and realized that his fingernails were digging into the palms of his hands.

Making a conscious effort to relax, he took a half step forward and then started violently as a hand brushed his arm.

"Popcorn?" Mayweather asked.

"What?" Reed had to pull his mind into focus.

Mayweather grinned. "Popcorn, you know hot buttery stuff that you eat at the movies. Do you want some?"

"Oh... yes, popcorn will be fine." Reed took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Great," Mayweather turned to a table laden with various snacks and beverages. "And you like root beer, right?"

A nod from Reed and Mayweather loaded a tray with a bowl of fresh popcorn and two glasses of soda.

"Okay, let's get a good seat. I just know you're going to love this movie!"

Reed followed the ensign to a couple of seats in the second row and sat down, glad of the anonymity once the lights went down and the opening credits rolled across the screen.

He had made another step forward in his recovery by facing up to this situation and so far, it had been okay. He forced himself to relax and immerse himself in the movie plot, and before long had managed to lose all sense of time and place as the action adventure film absorbed his attention completely.


	12. Chapter 12

Captain Archer rested both elbows on the small dining table as he turned a glass of beer in idle circles on its surface. He didn't look at his companion, musing in silence as he watched the minute bubbles rising through the amber liquid.

The dinner dishes had been cleared several minutes ago, and he had offered Tucker a beer, trying to ease the tension between them. The captain was glad that T'Pol hadn’t raised any questions when he requested that she not come to dinner, merely remarking that she had other things to attend to in any case and would appreciate the time to work on them.

He glanced up at a sigh from his companion and met the blue eyes of his former engineer as Tucker raised his glass to his lips.

Archer picked up his glass and took a sip of the beverage, savoring it for a moment before he swallowed. He drew a breath. Maintaining eye contact, he spoke softly.

"I'm sorry, Trip. I guess I haven't treated you very fairly."

Tucker set his glass on the table and stared at the captain in silence.

Archer found that gaze disconcerting and he glanced away.

"I've allowed... some personal feelings to get in the way."

"Cap'n," Tucker's voice stopped him and Archer looked up.

"Trip?"

"Cap'n, can ya just do me one favour?"

"What is it?"

"Just talk to me the way you would talk to your old buddy Trip, huh? I'm not some kinda stranger, an' I think that's a part of what's makin' this so hard for ya. I'm just Trip, Cap'n."

Archer dropped his gaze again and nodded. But it wasn't 'just Trip' sitting across from him. A part of his mind still clung to the thought that this man was somehow very different to the one who had left the ship two years earlier. Yet, he couldn't deny the way Porthos reacted just an hour ago when he met Tucker in the corridor.

Porthos was a friendly and well socialized dog, but he was also extremely suspicious and protective when it came to strangers. A part of the reason that the dog was seldom permitted on first contact missions or allowed to roam the ship freely was his tendency to 'bail up' anyone that he thought represented a threat to Jon.

Raising his eyes to Tucker's face, Archer smiled ruefully, "I'm not handling this very well, am I?"

"What's botherin' you, Cap'n?"

"Several things, as a matter of fact." Archer's shoulders drooped as he decided to come clean. "Look, I don't know any other way to do this, than just to tell you what the problem is... it won’t be easy for you to hear." A frown, "I'm not proud of the way I've been thinking or acting."

Tucker leaned back in his seat, leaving the half empty beer glass on the table. "Then just tell me."

The captain drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I guess the main problem is that I don't feel... I don't recognize you as the same man who left my ship on a routine mission two years ago. I mean, Malcolm is the same... essentially, damaged and fragile, but he's the same. When I look at you though, I see a different man, a different face almost. Your eyes, the way you speak, the... the new abilities."

Tucker remained silent, and very still. Archer shifted a little in his seat, keeping his eyes downcast.

"It's almost as though... an alien wearing your face came back from Zilanth. I don't know how to relate to you I don't know if I can trust you. I don't know if..."

"Hold it there a minute!" Tucker sat forward in his seat. "Look at me, Cap'n."

Archer met the younger man's eyes and swallowed hard, forcing himself to hold the engineer's gaze.

"You don't think ya can trust me? How do you mean?"

"To..." Archer's gaze wavered, and fell before that almost alien stare. "To not read my mind."

"I can't read yer mind, Cap'n." It was spoken so softly it was almost a whisper. "There was only one time in my life I ever could. Even when Shondré helped me to contact ya, I couldn't read any thought you didn't want me to know. I never could, I never will."

Archer closed his eyes. He'd been a fool not to sit Tucker down and talk these things out sooner. He swallowed hard and nodded. "But there are the abilities you have now. The explosion in the mess hall, the way you stopped it, and before that, you _projected_ yourself across space and time. I..."

"I can't explain those," Tucker murmured. "I don't know how, or why they happen. But somethin' I _do_ know is that I might have had those abilities even before all this happened. Shondré said I had too much ability for someone who just had it rub off on 'em from a 'gifted one.' She thought maybe that alien that came aboard the ship and had a hold of us in Cargo bay two was what started it. She said it gave you and I a bond and that's why you could see me when I was trying to project to the ship."

"That alien gave you the ability to do all this?" Archer was incredulous.

Tucker shook his head.

"Maybe, and maybe not. Maybe I was born with some kinda abilities." Tucker shrugged. "Sometimes I could tell when something was gonna go wrong with the engines, there was a... feel to 'em. I never thought much about it; my instructors at the academy just said I was a 'natural.'"

"But you knew that relay was going to blow in the mess hall."

"It was the same feelin,' Cap'n. Just stronger than it used to be is all."

"And stopping anyone from being seriously injured or killed?" Archer looked into Tucker's eyes. "I know for a fact that the Charles Tucker I know couldn’t do that. It's not that it was a bad thing, Trip, but it wasn't... natural."

To Archer's surprise, the engineer laughed.

"Well, if that's a problem to ya then it's been a problem for a lot longer than just these last few days. I stopped bein' completely _human_ a while back, Cap'n. From the moment I put my hand into a box of pebbles on an alien ship, I've had somethin' 'not human' floatin' around in my system."

Archer frowned. This was what Phlox had told him just a couple of days before. He sighed. "You mean since you were pregnant with the Xyrillian child."

"Yeah." Tucker nodded and looked down at his hands. "It was somethin' I couldn't help, Cap'n, and it didn't bother ya back then." He met the captain's eyes. "After we crashed, I lived half blind, one workin' hand – no hope o' reinstatement in Starfleet. A little spider bite changed all that, an' I didn't have any control over _that_ neither, Cap'n. Porthos here," he looked fondly at the beagle as he gently scratched a silky ear. "Isn't scared o' me, an' dogs _know_ these things. I'm still just Charles Tucker III, period, an' he can see it, like everyone else – ‘cept fer th' most important one. You."

The captain nodded, "I'm sorry," he said, but whether he was apologizing for his recent attitude or for being unable to see the human Tucker under the seemingly alien surface he couldn't be sure. He met the engineer's eyes and attempted a smile. "D'you think we could... start over?"

Tucker nodded slowly. "I'm willin' t'try."

"Thank you." It was more than he deserved, and Archer was acutely aware of it. He reached for his beer and took a gulp.

"Cap'n?"

"Yeah?"

"There's somethin' I need t'ask ya, somethin' important. I... I was wonderin' if ya could maybe find somethin' for Malcolm to do?" The engineer drew a deep breath, holding up a hand as the captain was about to interrupt. "Please, sir, Malcolm needs to be doin' somethin'. It keeps his mind off of... things. I don't say ya should put him back in the armoury, he's not ready for that, but he needs _somethin_ ' to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied If... if ya could...."

"Trip..."

"Cap'n you shoulda seen him yesterday after that accident in the mess hall. He was a different man; he was focused and calm he was... he was _Malcolm._ ya gotta understand, that was what held him together on Zilanth." Tucker was talking a mile a minute and Archer got to his feet in an effort to break through.

"Commander!" The sharp tone cut across the torrent of words and brought Tucker to attention.

"Sir!"

Archer resumed his seat. "Trip," he said more gently. "It's okay, you don't have to sell Malcolm to me... I know what he is capable of." He paused for a moment in thought and then looked into the engineer's steady gaze. "I'll try to find him something to do. Something for you as well. It's about time you two got back to work."

Tucker's face broke into a grin almost reminiscent of former times. "Thank you, Cap'n."

The captain nodded and stood up. "I guess we should call it a night," he said. "I have a few duty rosters to look over and, I'm sure you're anxious to get back to Malcolm.

Tucker nodded. "Yeah, he was expectin' me for dinner." The engineer winced. "I shoulda commed him."

Archer took a step forward and seemed about to clap Tucker on the shoulder, but he drew back and instead nodded with a smile. "Well, I won't keep you any longer."

"Thanks," Taking that as a dismissal Tucker bent to give Porthos' ears one last scratch before he turned and walked out of the captain's mess.


	13. Chapter 13

The movie ended and the canteen opened, offering a selection of desserts  
and snacks. Travis invited Reed to stay for supper but  
the lieutenant declined. He longed for the quiet and  
privacy of Tucker's quarters. He thanked Mayweather for the evening,  
claiming that he was tired as an excuse to get out of the overly crowded mess hall.  
  
"Okay." Mayweather smiled. "I don't need supper either. I hafta  
watch my shape," he added with a grin. "Want me to walk you home?"  
  
"Thanks," Reed nodded.  
  
They made the short walk to the lift in silence, but Reed stopped dead in   
his tracks near a bend in the corridor as he heard male voices.  
  
"Did you see Reed there?" The first voice asked.  
  
"Yeah, he's a wreck all right, just like Sam told me. Hard to believe it's  
the same man." The second man replied.  
  
Reed frowned, holding up a hand to stay Mayweather as the  
Ensign made to walk around the corner.  
  
"I don't know why the captain was so determined that he should come back.  
Commander Tucker's okay but... what a waste. Reed would've been better off if  
he died down there on that planet."  
  
Reed bit down on his bottom lip, closing his eyes. The voices sounded strangely hollow.   
He drew a breath and held it.  
  
"Look, I've got nothin' against the lieutenant," the first voice said, "But  
Commander Tucker's a damn fine engineer and I just hate to see him wasting  
his time with..." At that point the men must have entered the lift, because  
their voices were abruptly cut off.  
  
Reed leaned against the wall. He'd been right all along; he'd tried to tell Tucker that   
he shouldn't return to _Enterprise_ , that he was ruined and of no use to anyone.   
Coming back was a mistake, and now he was holding Tucker back as well. He   
let out a shuddering breath and turned unfocussed eyes on Mayweather when   
the ensign laid a hand on his arm.  
  
"Malcolm, are you okay?"

The voice came from a hundred miles away and Reed stared mutely at Mayweather   
for a few moments, he couldn’t work out how to respond. He knew he _should_ respond,   
but he couldn't make his mind function.  
  
"I..." he faltered. "I... I need to get home," he managed. Mayweather nodded.  
  
"C'mon, I'll help you." He pulled Reed towards the lift, pressing the call  
button and helping Reed into the car when it arrived.  
  
"M-my quarters," Reed said, barely above a whisper, "I want to go to my own  
quarters."  
  
"Malcolm, they didn't mean anything by it." Mayweather met his eyes levelly.  
"It's just talk, it's nothing. I don't think you should..."  
  
" _My_ quarters!" His tone held a note of command and the ensign nodded and   
pressed the button to send the lift on its way.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Reed's could barely hear above the rush of blood in his ears. He gritted his teeth to   
keep them from chattering as he forcibly steeled himself against the trembling  
that threatened to engulf him. He must make the safety of his quarters. He  
would be able to think there, to push down the monsters that clamoured to  
escape his iron control.  
  
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly while every ounce of  
strength was poured into remaining on his feet and keeping the panic in check   
until he was alone.  
  
Mayweather reluctantly left him alone, after asking him at  
least five times if there was anything he could do.  
  
Reed closed and locked the door once the ensign left and stumbled to the  
bed, sinking down on it with his arms wrapped across his midsection. The  
words of the two crewmen had struck like physical blows leaving him reeling.

He'd been deluding himself thinking he could be rehabilitated.  
  
"Fool," he told himself bitterly. Even his pretence at being brave had  
fallen short of the mark. He was a fake and a charlatan and his  
weakness was causing problems for Tucker.  
  
Reed drew a ragged breath and shook himself. He had to think. Clear his  
head. He tried to remember the techniques Shondré had taught him, but his  
mind refused to focus.  
  
 _Reed would've been better off if he'd died down there on that planet—died_  
 _down there—died down there—died…_  
  


The words of the unidentified crewman haunted him. "I tried to," he  
murmured. "I tried and he stopped me. They made me come back. I didn't want  
to."  
  
There would be no opportunity for that again, he knew, not here on the ship.  
He was watched too closely, Phlox and Tucker, always checking and monitoring and running tests.  
  
A hollow sob escaped as he replayed the conversation again in his mind.  
All his efforts to try and regain some of his former confidence and strength  
were worth nothing. He closed his eyes and lay down on the bed, huddling in  
on himself as helpless tears stung his eyes.  
  
He'd failed. Failed Tucker, and the captain and worst of all, he'd failed  
himself. He finally gave vent to the pent-up emotions. He was hopeless,   
useless and there was no use denying it any longer. He would have to   
find some way to end this fiasco and he had to stay away from Tucker at all costs.  
  
It was unfair expecting Trip to continue playing nursemaid to him.  
Especially now that it seemed that Tucker and the captain might work things  
out. Tucker had his career to think of. He didn't need to be burdened with a  
wreck like Reed.  
  


  
  
**\--/--**

  
  
Commander Charles Tucker III walked into his quarters to find them deserted.   
He looked around in mild surprise. Reed hadn't mentioned any plans and dinner   
time was well past; he bit his lips wondering where Reed could have gone.  
  
After a moment his eyes fell on the data pad on his desk and he picked it  
up, reading the short message on the screen as a slow smile spread across  
his lips.  
  
So Malcolm had decided to go to movie night with Travis Mayweather. Tucker  
was pleased to think his lover had taken such an initiative without  
him. It was another step on the road to recovery. He laid the padd down and  
headed for the bathroom. He would grab a shower while he waited for Reed to  
return.  
  
A few minutes later, Tucker emerged from the bathroom clad in a bathrobe and under shorts,   
vigorously toweling his hair. Reed was still not back and he moved to the panel by the door   
and thumbed the button. "Tucker to Reed," he waited for a response that didn't come.  
  
  


Taking a deep breath, he pushed down the slight prickle of worry and pressed  
the button again. He was about to call Mayweather when the door chime rang  
and he turned to open the door instead.  
  
Travis Mayweather stood in the doorway but there was no sign of Reed.  
  
Tucker smiled. "Travis. Where's Malcolm?" There was a pause, a fraction of a  
second too long.  
  
"He went to his own quarters after the movie."  
  
The prickle of worry became a sharp stab of panic. "Why?"  
  
"Sir, something happened. "  
  
"What happened?" Tucker tensed. _Something happened that made Malcolm wanna go  
to his own quarters and you let him? You left him alone?_ Tucker bit back the flood of words.

  
"Malcolm overheard a couple of crewmen talking in the hallway." Tucker  
didn't wait to hear more, regardless of his state of undress and his tousled hair; he   
bolted from his quarters with Mayweather at his heels.  
  
"Walk'n'talk!" he said.  
  
Mayweather related the conversation that he and  
Reed had overheard. "I didn't want to take him back to his cabin,"  
Mayweather ended, "But he wouldn't go anywhere else. I thought I should come  
and get you. I..."  
  
"You shoulda _commed_ me!" Tucker snarled as he broke into a run. "You  
shoulda never left him alone!"  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't think..."  
  
"Damn straight." Tucker left the ensign in his wake and sprinted for Reed's quarters.  
  


**\--/--**

  
He drifted in dark clouds. He was not asleep. He didn't sleep alone, couldn't; not since—   
but his mind shied away from those memories. He wouldn't let his mind go there.   
The monsters lurked there in the dark ready to leap out and devour him if he looked   
at them. As long as he didn't look at them it was all right. He could keep them at bay   
if he focused on something else. But there wasn't anything else. It was all lost. Gone.  
Worthless just as he was worthless. He was nothing, just  
a cowering beast, a creature that huddled at the feet of powerful men,   
begging them not to hurt him.  
  
The monsters were strong, they could pull him into madness if he let them.  
They called to him. He could hear their voices. Sweet siren voices.

 _Come back to us, don't be afraid._  
  
He turned to look in their direction. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad  
if he went with them. Maybe they would help him find what he was  
looking for. He had lost something. No, that was wrong, he had to _do_  
something. Yes, that was it. He had a task to perform, and maybe the monsters  
could help him. He took a faltering step. He could see their  
eyes He knew them, they were familiar. He let himself fall.  
  
"Malcolm!" Tucker pounded on the door when there was no answer to the chime.   
He threw himself against it in a futile attempt to break the door down. "Malcolm!"  
  
Tucker rounded on Mayweather as the ensign caught him up. "Call Phlox!" He  
rapped the order and then turned his attention to the door, moving to the  
control panel as he looked around for something he could use to dismantle  
it.


	14. Chapter 14

Phlox laid down the medical scanner and turned to face the captain and  
Commander Tucker. "He is conscious," the doctor said, "I believe he is aware  
of his surroundings. His brain is active and he does not appear to be  
asleep. However, he seems unable or unwilling to respond to external  
stimuli."  
  
Tucker stared at Malcolm who lay unresponsive, on the bio bed. "What can you   
do for him?" His voice was roughened by emotion that he held in check by force of iron   
will. He sighed, letting his gaze move to the doctor's face. "You can help him, right?"  
  
He shuddered as he recalled the scene when they had finally gotten into  
Malcolm's cabin.

**\--/--**

  
  
Reed lay huddled into one corner of his bed, his back pressed against the  
wall and his eyes staring fixedly at some point in the middle distance; his  
face so blank that for one heart stopping moment, Tucker  
thought he was dead.  
  
He ran to the bedside and sat down, reaching for Reed's hand and felt relief  
flood him when the skin was warm to his touch although the fingers remained  
slack and unresponsive. "Malcolm? Can ya hear me?" He shook Malcolm’s   
shoulders trying to elicit some response.  
  
Reed didn't move, there was not even a flicker of acknowledgement.  
He simply stared and lay so still that he could almost have been  
unconscious. "Malcolm?"  
  
"Malcolm..." Reed's voice responded, small and thin.  
  
"Malcolm, it's Trip. Are you okay?"  
  
"Are you okay?" Reed parroted.  
  
The commander looked up as a small bustle of activity announced  
Phlox's arrival. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, moving aside so that the  
doctor could get close to his patient. "He keeps just repeating what I say to him."  
  
Phlox didn't reply, busy with the scanner, frowning  
over the readings. He reached for Reed's hand and tried to pull it towards  
himself but met immediate resistance. Releasing the lieutenant's hand, he  
shut off the scanner and turned to Tucker.

"I will have to transfer him to sickbay before I can give you any  
information. I need to run some tests." He drew a deep breath and glanced at  
Reed then went on. "I'll arrange that immediately and perhaps  
someone should ask the captain to meet us there." His blue eyes returned to  
Tucker taking in the commander's appearance. "Might I suggest you find   
some other attire? It can be rather cool in sickbay, hm?"  
  
Tucker became aware of his state for the first time and felt hot color  
flood his cheeks. "Uh, yeah," he said. "I'll do that," he stumbled back a   
few paces. "I'll meet you in sickbay."

\--/--

  
  
Coming back to the present, Tucker fixed his gaze on Phlox's face.  
"You _can_ help him, can't you?"  
  
"There are medications I can use, yes." Phlox responded, "But much of his  
recovery will depend on the lieutenant himself. His problem is more mental  
than physical." Phlox paused as a glance passed between the two officers. "I  
won't lie to you gentlemen, this situation is one that, by rights, _should_  
be reported to Starfleet immediately." The doctor looked into Archer's eyes.  
"However, I will leave that up to your discretion, Captain."  
  
Archer nodded and glanced at Tucker before he replied.  
"We won't do anything hasty," he said. "Do your best for him, Doctor."  
  
"Naturally, Captain." Phlox turned away from them and began to prepare a  
hypospray. "Mister Reed," he said softly. "This will help you to rest."  
Phlox applied the hypo to his patient's neck.

  
\--/--

  
The monsters danced around him, chanting his name, why did they  
keep calling his name?  
  
 _Malcolm. Maallcolm. Malcolm._ Over and over. On the outside of their voices   
he could hear other, familiar ones, but the monsters drowned them out.  
  
"This will help you to rest," he murmured. He tried to see over the heads of  
the monsters. There was someone there, but the monsters crowded in and pushed him   
down, down into darkness, away from the voices and the light into a small, dark place   
where there was only the monsters and their constant chanting.  
  
 _Malcolm, come with us. Malcolm, stay with us. Malcolm._

**\--/--**

  
  
Archer turned to Tucker with a sigh and a minute shake of his head as  
the lieutenant seemed to sink into a fitful sleep in response to the  
medication.  
  
"I think we need to discuss a few things," he said.  
  
Tucker nodded, "Yessir." He cast one last glance at Reed before he quietly  
followed the captain out of sickbay.


	15. Chapter 15

The captain led the way into his ready room and sat on a chair in front of the desk waving   
Trip to another. He rubbed at his face, still trying to make sense of events since Tucker left   
his private dining room.  
  
At length the captain raised his head and looked at Tucker. "Do you know  
exactly what happened to Malcolm on Clinarin Two?" He studied Trip, noting the  
expressions that chased each other across the engineer's features.  
  
"Trip, you know that confidentiality can be breached on a need to know  
basis." Archer leaned forward in his chair and met the worried blue eyes. "I  
think this qualifies, don't you?"  
  
Tucker nodded. "I understand that, Cap'n. I just. I don't know how I'm gonna tell ya."  
  
Archer sighed. "Was Malcolm tortured, beaten?" he prompted, "I need to understand this."  
  
"That," Tucker replied with a sigh. "An' worse." He swallowed hard. "He was  
kept as a slave, Cap'n." The engineer bowed his head. "A Pleasure slave, the  
Clinarin's called it. Like those women we saw for sale at that market.   
He was beaten, tortured, raped.

  
"Phlox woulda told ya about the surgery." Tucker looked up. "When the  
Terrans rescued Malcolm, their Phlox removed some implants. Malcolm'd been  
fitted with them so that he couldn't remember who he was, he couldn't  
talk, and if he didn't make em happy, they used em to shock him into  
cooperatin'."  
  
The captain rested one elbow on his desk and placed the knuckles of his  
first two fingers against his lips. Reed had obviously been to hell and  
back; except the coming back part wasn't yet complete. He sighed but remained  
silent, letting Tucker finish the story.  
  
"When Malcolm came to Zilanth, he didn't remember much at first. He knew  
who I was, and he knew that he was from _Enterprise,_ he knew his name.  
Other things took time to come back. I don't know if he even  
remembers everythin' he lost yet." He sighed. "He's good at fakin' his way  
through."  
  
"Obviously." The captain got up and moved to a cabinet. "Get you a drink?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Archer poured two glasses of sherry and handed one to Tucker before he  
resumed his seat.  
  
There was silence for a few moments before Tucker spoke softly. "That's not  
all, Cap'n." He passed his tongue across his lips, a sure sign he was about  
to divulge something he really would rather not talk about.  
  
"What is it, Trip?" Archer leaned forward, studying the engineer's face  
intently.  
  
"A few weeks before _Enterprise_ came back for us, Malcolm tried to kill  
himself."  
  
Archer almost choked on a mouthful of sherry. He set the glass  
aside. The silence drew out between them to the point of  
discomfort.  
  
Tucker raised his head and looked at the captain, he knew he was risking a  
lot by coming clean, but he had to trust his friend. He stared at Archer,   
waiting for a response that didn't come.  
  
It was Tucker who eventually broke the silence. "I stopped him," he said  
simply. "An' I didn't let him outta my sight after that. He didn't  
like it one bit, but I couldn't risk him takin' another shot at it."  
  
The engineer sipped his drink, bowing his head again as the captain still  
didn't speak. "Anyway, a little while after that, Malcolm agreed to let  
Shondré help him. He was makin' good progress. Even up  
to the day before you arrived. He was workin' his way back." He shook his  
head slightly.

 _He will be well!_ Shondré’s words whispered across his mind. Trip had believed   
her then. He tried to hold on to that belief now.  
  
Archer sensed there was a lot left unsaid. He drew a deep breath; he needed to   
know. "How did you stop him in time, Trip? I know Malcolm. If he was determined   
to do such a thing, he wouldn't have made a lot of noise about it."  
  
Tucker dropped his head forward and stared into his glass.  
  
"Trip?"  
  
"He went to the swimming hole. We used to go there a lot. He was gonna drown  
himself and to make sure...he took a hypospray." Tucker fell silent, pain  
evident in his expression as he drew in a breath and then took a gulp at his  
drink. "The Terran Phlox left us an 80D hypo of a real strong painkiller.  
Shondré had Malcolm give me one dose of it when my retina started to  
regrow, but there were 79 doses left."  
  
Archer waited in silence.  
  
"That's the first time that I— that my abilities..." Tucker glanced into  
Archer's eyes and quickly looked away. "I called his name, but I knew I was  
gonna be too late. I could see him there with the hypo up to his neck."

"I ran as hard as I could and all along I knew it wasn't enough and then...   
I don't know I guess there was a sound or somethin' and then I tackled   
him and we both hit the water. I dragged him out, kicked his ass all the   
way home. It wasn't until later I found out."  
  
"What'd you find out, Trip?"  
  
"That I somehow fused the hypospray so it wouldn't discharge. It was what   
saved Malcolm's life. I didn't even know it until Shondré gave it  
back to me when we were leavin.' It fell into th' water when I tackled  
him; never _could_ find it again."  
  
"Trip. You've carried this all this time and you didn't tell  
 _anyone_?"  
  
"Who was there t'tell, Cap'n? Phlox already knew most of it, and the one  
person I woulda told..."  
  
"Didn't want to know."  
  
Tucker nodded.  
  
Archer cursed under his breath. "I'm sorry."  
  
Tucker raised his head and met the captain's eyes levelly for a moment. "I  
don't think I'm the one you oughta be apologizing to, Cap'n." Trip  
set his glass down on the desk. "I think I should go," he added as he  
stood up.  
  
Archer stood and took a half step forward. "Trip," he began. "I know I ..."  
  
"Leave it, Cap'n. Not now, okay?" Tucker moved towards the door. "It's late  
and you've gotta work in a few hours." He cast the captain another brief  
glance. "We'll talk some more sometime."  
  
Archer nodded and watched as Tucker left the room. After the door  
closed behind him, the captain turned to the viewport, leaning  
his hands on a bulkhead as he gazed out into space. He couldn't deny that  
Trip’s parting words cut him, but at the same time, he knew had he been   
in the same position he would probably have said much the same.  
  
He pushed away from the bulkhead, turning to gather up the  
glasses and set them on a tray for one of his stewards to collect.  
  
He was about to leave when the door chime sounded and he opened the door to  
find Sub Commander T'Pol standing there.  
  
"Sub Commander, you're up late. Something I can do for you?"  
  
"I wish to speak with you regarding Lieutenant Reed," T'Pol said as she  
stepped into the room.


	16. Chapter 16

_The sun burned down relentlessly and he stumbled to his knees in the scorching sand. Searching through his pockets for the communicator, he decided to try one more time to reach Enterprise. The ship had to be there somewhere. Surely by now, they were searching for himself and Tucker?_

_His search became more frantic as each pocket of his uniform failed to turn up the communicator. Then, with a groan of despair, he remembered. He'd dropped it the last time he tried to contact the ship. He didn't recall picking it up again._

_Malcolm Reed sank down in the sand and closed his eyes. He would just rest for a moment. How he longed for water, but that had run out some time ago too and he'd cast the empty canteen away, it was too heavy to carry in his weakened state. He let out a sobbing breath and allowed the haze of exhaustion to claim him._

_Why did Trip leave me? We should have stayed together; it would be easier for Enterprise to pick up our life signs._

_He groaned softly and turned his head, resting it on his arms to protect his face from the blazing sun. So hot...He was so hot._

**\--/--**

"He's fevered," Phlox muttered to Crewman Cutler as he read the bio signs on the scanner he held. "We need to bring his temperature down to prevent convulsions." The doctor reached for a hypo spray and loaded an antipyretic. He frowned at the Lieutenant as he administered it.

\--/--

 _A shadow fell across him, but at first, he didn't respond. He was aware of the change in the light falling all around him, but he didn't have the energy to move._

_Someone spoke in a tongue he didn't understand and he slowly raised his head, peering up at the tall creature that loomed over him._

_"Please, do you have any water?" He attempted to push himself into a sitting position but it was no use, his body simply wouldn't cooperate. "Water...I need water."_

**\--/--**

"Water," the plea was barely whispered and Phlox reacted immediately, taking a small container from the bedside and holding it to his patient's lips as Reed drank.

The doctor had set up IV fluids as soon as the lieutenant had arrived in sickbay, but he felt the request was a positive sign.

"Lieutenant Reed? Can you hear me?"

There was no response as the man seemed to sink into his trancelike state once more. Phlox shook his head with a sigh. Glancing across the bed at Cutler he spoke softly.

"I fear if we don't reach him soon, he will be lost to us completely."

At that moment, Captain Archer entered, followed by sub-commander T'Pol. "I think we may have a solution to that," the captain said as he moved to Reed's bedside. "T'Pol came to me last night with...some information that could be helpful." Archer glanced at the Vulcan who nodded and met Phlox' eyes.

"I believe I have been given a means to reach Lieutenant Reed."

"I see." Phlox glanced at the silent patient on the bio bed and then waved the captain and sub-commander towards his office. "Perhaps we should discuss this further?"

Phlox waited until the captain took a seat, and then he moved to the chair behind his desk and sat down, watching T'Pol expectantly as the Vulcan paused in thoughtful silence before she began to speak.

"As you know, when Commander Tucker first contacted the ship, I was able to assist the captain in communicating more clearly with the commander and the Zilanthi healer."

"Yes, through the use of a mental bond." Phlox agreed, "A mind meld. Is that what you are suggesting we try with Lieutenant Reed?"

"The method is similar," T'Pol replied, "but not as invasive as a complete melding of the minds. I would be able to communicate with him, but only as far as he permits."

Phlox nodded. "You said this method was 'given' to you; may I ask from whom?"

"Yes." T'Pol nodded. "I received the knowledge from the Zilanthi healer at the same time that I was joined with Commander Tucker and the captain. It was placed in my mind and I was unaware of it until last night." She raised an eyebrow. "During my meditation I accessed this knowledge." The Vulcan frowned. "It had been placed in such a way as to only become accessible if it was needed."

"Remarkable!" Phlox said.

"Indeed. The ability to place such knowledge into the mind of another in this way is only possessed by a few of my race. It is a skill developed only after many years of study and training."

Phlox suppressed a smile. That the Vulcan was impressed by Shondré's ability to perform such a thing was obvious from the way she spoke, but he knew the Vulcan race well enough to understand that T'Pol would never articulate the fact."Doctor," Archer said. "Is Malcolm strong enough for this procedure? I know that when I talked with Trip through that mental bond, it was... draining. I don't want to risk making matters worse."

"Physically, the lieutenant is strong enough," Phlox replied. "I don't know enough of what is going on in his mind to speak for that side of things. However, I am willing to take the risk, Captain. Quite frankly I don't know how else to proceed, and his condition is such that if permitted to continue, he may never come out of the catatonia."

Archer nodded and leaned back in his seat, looking at T'Pol.

"I will endeavour to cause as little disruption to his mental state as possible," The sub-commander said. "I have no desire to exacerbate his condition, only to attempt to alleviate it."

"Very well," Phlox got to his feet. "Perhaps Commander Tucker should be advised of what we're planning to do. But we may need to delay for a short time, Lieutenant Reed is suffering from a fever at present, and I would prefer to wait until it has subsided before we proceed."

"Of course," T'Pol nodded and took a half step towards the doors. "In the meantime, I will speak with the commander."

Archer got to his feet and waited until the sub-commander left the room before he turned to Phlox. "Doctor," he said softly. "I wanted to thank you for..." he paused and then went on with a small smile, "having the guts to confront me about some of my attitudes recently."

Phlox nodded, "There is really no need, Captain. I was merely doing my duty as your physician."

"Well, it’s a good thing you did," Archer persisted. "I almost lost a very good friend over something that was really less important than I imagined." The captain gave a small nod and moved towards the door. "Keep me informed of Lieutenant Reed's condition," he added as he left.

**\--/--**

_He awoke sometime later in cool, shady comfort. The sun was gone, and the burning sand was a thing of memory. He stirred, looking around in the welcome gloom. He lay on a thin pallet on the floor of what appeared to be a ship. He could feel the thrum of engines through the floor and he sat up quickly, panicked. "Where am I? What's happening?"_

_This certainly wasn't_ Enterprise _he would have woken in sickbay or his own quarters._

_Panic intensified as he realized that if he was aboard a ship, then someone had removed him from the planet where he'd crashed with Trip. "Oh God, Trip!" he said aloud as he scrambled to his feet and stumbled towards a door he could dimly make out at the other side of the room. "Hey!" he slapped at the door with his open palm, trying to make himself heard. "Hello? Is anyone there? Open the door...open it!"_

_Nothing happened, and after a few moments of pounding and shouting he stepped back, realizing that for the moment at least, he was not going to get any response. He sighed and moved back to the pallet, sat down with his back against the cool metal wall._

_At least he was out of the desert and his chances of survival looked brighter._


	17. Chapter 17

You're gonna go poking around in Malcolm's _mind?_ " Tucker  
stared at T'Pol in amazement. "After all that he's been through, you wanna  
put him through more?"  
  
"It is not my intent to cause him further suffering," the Vulcan replied. "I  
believe that I can help him."  
  
Tucker shook his head, pacing the floor in thought.  
  
"I know what you're describin'. I worked with Shondré enough to understand  
how it works, but Malcolm. He's never had anyone do anything like that. How  
do you know it won't do more harm than good?"  
  
"The healer didn't seem to think it would harm him. She deliberately  
transferred this knowledge to my mind. I do not see why she would do so if  
the procedure could damage him."  
  
"Maybe so... but maybe she gave you that knowledge as a last ditch kinda  
thing? Maybe it's only for when nothing else will work?"  
  
"Commander, I believe this _is_ such a time," T'Pol said  
levelly.  
  
The truth of that hung between them. Tucker closed his eyes briefly.   
He had struggled to keep that very thought out of his mind all the previous night. A part   
of him knew that Malcolm was rapidly slipping away and that there was very little anyone   
could do about it, but no one had dared to voice it to him. He had not dared to even think   
it. He sank into a chair. "Let me help then."  
  
"I cannot." T'Pol replied. "The risks are too great."  
  
"I _know_ how to do it! I know what you're goin' to do...Shondré hadda teach  
me how so I could contact the cap'n. I..."  
  
"That was a very different situation. All involved were aware and willing to  
participate. Lieutenant Reed will not enter into this bond with his informed   
consent. That is why I require _your_ agreement to it."  
  
Tucker bowed his head in resignation. "All right," he  
said softly, "but can I at least be there with him?"  
  
"I believe your presence would be beneficial."  
  
"When are we gonna do it?"  
  
"As soon as the doctor informs me that Lieutenant Reed is well enough."  
  
Tucker nodded again and looked into her eyes. "Thanks for...offerin' to  
try." He said sincerely.  
  
T'Pol nodded and turned to leave.  
  
After the door closed behind the sub-commander, Tucker slumped down into a  
chair. A part of him dearly wanted to be allowed to contact Malcolm through   
whatever means T'Pol was planning to use, but he  
knew that she was right. They couldn't risk making Reed's condition  
worse. That meant limiting the mental contact. Shondré would probably  
have said the same thing, and the Zilanthi healer was much more experienced  
in such things than the Vulcan female was.  
  
Tucker passed a hand across his face, rubbing at his eyes. He'd not slept  
very well the previous night without Reed there. He wondered briefly what it would   
be like to have to go back to sleeping alone and then he pushed the thought aside.   
"That's not gonna happen. He will be well."  
  
The sound of the door chimes startled him and for a moment, he stared at the  
door in silence before he collected his thoughts. "Come in."  
  
The door slid open to admit Ensign Travis Mayweather.  
  
"Hi, Travis," Tucker forced a small smile of welcome to touch his lips, and  
waved to a chair. "What can I do for ya?"  
  
"I came to apologize," Mayweather said. He moved to a chair and sat  
with eyes downcast. "All of this is my fault."  
  
"How is _any_ of this your fault?" Tucker sat a little straighter.  
  
"Malcolm didn't want to go to the movie. I pushed him." Mayweather sighed.  
"He wasn't comfortable with it, didn't want to stay for supper, he  
just... and then we had to walk in on those two talking."  
  
"Do you know who they were?"  
  
Mayweather looked startled but he covered it quickly. "No,  
sir," the Ensign replied, still not meeting Tucker's eyes.  
  
"Are you sure about that?" Tucker leaned closer, "Those men have done a lot  
of damage."  
  
"I didn't see their faces, sir."  
  
"But you knew their voices, Travis." Tucker could tell by Mayweather's obvious  
discomfort, that he was right. "Tell me who it was. I need t’know."  
  
Mayweather sighed heavily and met Tucker's eyes. "It was Stan Pritchard, and  
I think the other one might have been Alan Johannson."  
  
"Mighta been Johannson?" Tucker pressed.  
  
"Those two are always hanging out together. I figure it's pretty likely."  
Mayweather said.  
  
"Good enough for me." Tucker got to his feet, causing Mayweather to  
scramble up as well.  
  
"What're you going to do?" Mayweather asked anxiously.  
  
"I'm gonna have their balls breakfast is what I'm gonna do!"  
  
"Uh, sir?" Mayweather walked quickly alongside the commander as Tucker  
headed out into the corridor, "D'you really think that... I mean I didn't  
want to get anyone into trouble, I... Commander?"  
  
"You didn't get anyone in trouble, Travis. These two did that all by  
themselves." Tucker didn't slacken his pace.  
  
Mayweather sighed and dropped out of step with the engineer, he was already  
running late for duty and there was no way he could go with Tucker to ensure   
that the confrontation didn't become physical. He chewed on his lower  
lip for a moment, watching as Tucker rounded a bend in the corridor and then  
decided he should probably head for the bridge. He was sure that Commander  
Tucker would handle the two crewmen professionally.  
  
He turned to head back in the direction he'd come, and with one last,  
worried look over his shoulder, he made his way to a lift.

  
  
**\--/--**

**  
**  
_He’d been asleep. Reed cursed himself as the door of the room he'd_  
 _been held in for hours suddenly slid open. The room flooded with light_  
 _and he scrambled up to a half-crouched position, narrowing his eyes against_  
 _the glare as he tried to make out facial features of the tall alien that_  
 _approached him._  
  
 _With the light behind him, the alien had a decided advantage. Reed couldn't_  
 _see him clearly. He tensed, ready for any eventuality._  
  
 _He relaxed only slightly when the creature stooped to set a tray on the_  
 _floor. There was a bowl of something that looked like broth,_  
 _and a dish of water. Reed shuffled forward and picked it_  
 _up, drinking thirstily before he turned his attention to_  
 _the alien._  
  
 _The creature had straightened, and stepped back from him, but it didn't_  
 _leave._  
  
 _"Where am I? What ship is this? Where are you taking me?"_  
  
 _"You ask a great many questions for one so small." The alien replied. "I am_  
 _Jasp," it added. "You will come to know me very well. We will spend a lot of_  
 _time together." He gestured around him. "I own this ship. The Ris’thaar._  
 _Where we are going is not your concern."_  
  
 _"I am Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Chief Security Officer of the Star ship_  
 _Enterprise. If you would permit me to use your communications system I would_  
 _like to contact my..."_  
  
 _"You won't need to contact your ship. You no longer serve on that vessel."_  
 _Jasp made a facial expression that Reed supposed approximated a smile. "It_  
 _will become... less important to you."_  
  
 _Reed stood. "Look here," he said firmly. "I don't know what_  
 _you're talking about, and I don't much care. It's my duty to return to_ Enterprise _."_  
  
 _"It's your duty **now** to do as I say!" Jasp stepped forward and backhanded_  
 _Reed. "I grow weary of impertinence! You will not speak again unless_  
 _commanded to. Do you understand?"_  
  
 _"Go to hell!" Reed rasped, dabbing at the corner of his mouth where a tooth_  
 _had cut through his lip._  
  
 _The next blow sent him to the floor groaning in pain. Jasp moved to stand_  
 _over him. "Foolish little creature! Very well, if your silence cannot be_  
 _commanded, there are other ways."_  
  
 _Reed shook his head to clear it and struggled to get up, but before he could_  
 _do so Jasp had left and the door slammed closed behind him._  
  
 _"Well, that went rather nicely," Reed muttered to himself. He dabbed the_  
 _side of his mouth once more and returned to his pallet. The broth smelled_  
 _enticing, and he decided he may as well eat it. Since it appeared that he was_  
 _being held prisoner, it would pay to keep his strength up._

  
**\--/--**   
  


Crewman Liz Cutler glanced at the main bio bed as a small stir of movement  
caught her peripheral vision. She studied Reed for a moment, and then stood  
up as she realized that he had changed position. The lieutenant had been  
lying on his back since the doctor had him moved to sickbay, but he had  
rolled to one side and his eyes were open. She looked into his eyes, and for a   
moment, she thought that he was conscious and aware.  
  
"Lieutenant Reed?" Cutler got to her feet and moved to the bedside. "Malcolm?"  
  
There was no response. Cutler frowned, picked up a medical scanner which  
she ran over him. She studied the readout. Reed's fever had  
broken.


	18. Chapter 18

Sickbay was hushed, the lighting subdued and the privacy screen drawn around  
the main bio bed. T'Pol, Captain Archer, Phlox and Tucker stood quietly near  
the foot of the bed. T'Pol glanced from one to the other of the three males  
and nodded.  
  
"I am ready to proceed," she said. She took a step towards Reed.  
  
Tucker stepped forward as well, and took hold of of Reed's hand. He  
looked into T'Pol's eyes for a moment, trying to read her expression. It was  
inscrutable as usual and he looked away, fixing his gaze on Reed's face.  
  
"You'll stop if he isn't handling this." It was more of a statement than a  
question and the sub-commander nodded.  
  
Tucker swallowed hard and gave a slight nod. indicating that she should go  
ahead.  
  
As one small hand came to rest on Reed's temple, Tucker passed his tongue  
across suddenly dry lips. He squeezed Reed's hand as T'Pol closed her eyes  
and murmured some words in Vulcan.  
  
 _I hope we're doin' the right thing,_ Tucker thought as Reed  
tensed.  
  
Tucker glanced sharply at T'Pol, but she didn't break the contact. Her   
brows drew together and her eyes remained closed. A  
small sigh broke from her lips, but other than that, she made no sound.  
  
Reed groaned and his fingers flexed in Tucker's grip.  
  
The engineer turned to look at the doctor.  
  
Phlox glanced up from the medical scanner he held and smiled at Tucker with  
a small nod.

  
**\--/--**

  
_Reed shivered with cold. It had been hours since anyone  
had come near him. He glanced at the empty dishes on the tray Jasp had left_ _.  
He was thirsty, but no one had come to offer more water or_   
_food. He sighed and shifted position on the pallet, rolling to face_   
_the door. He would not allow himself to sleep. He didn't want to be taken_   
_unawares again._   
  


_He wondered if Jasp intended to force his submission by denying him food and_   
_water indefinitely. He picked up the water dish,_ _hoping to find even a drop of  
liquid and cursing himself for not _ _thinking to save some earlier._   
  
_The dish was dry. He set it down again with a groan._   
  
_Something stirred in the shadows. Malcolm tensed. Was there_   
_someone here in the room with him? He hadn't noticed any movement until now._   
_Perhaps this was another method to make him cooperate. Or perhaps he was delirious  
_ _from thirst. He got to his feet_ _. "_

_Who's there?"_  
  
_Reed peered into the shadows for a long moment. He couldn't see anything,_  
 _but he was almost certain someone was standing there, unmoving, silent. He_  
 _narrowed his eyes and took a step towards the shadows. "Who are you?"_  
  
 _"You know me." A voice, but still no movement._  
  
 _Reed took another forward step. "Show yourself."_  
  
 _"I am not hidden." The female voice replied. It was familiar. Reed blinked_  
 _in confusion._  
  
 _"Why can't I see you?"_  
  
 _"You can see me if you wish to."_  
  
 _"T'Pol?" She was instantly visible. Reed frowned. "How_  
 _did you get in here? How long have you been there?" He shook his head. "This_  
 _doesn't make any sense!"_  
  
 _"Lieutenant." Her calm tone grounded him. He looked into_ _her eyes._  
  
 _"Did they... Did Jasp capture you too? What about the ship, Commander_  
 _Tucker?"_  
  
 _"You are not perceiving correctly. No one has captured me. No one holds you_  
 _here."_  
  
 _He laughed. "That's ridiculous. Are you going to analyse our way out of_  
 _this?" Reed paced to the wall and pressed against it with both hands. "If no_  
 _one's holding us here, then why can't I just push the walls down and_  
 _escape?" Something niggled at the back of Reed's mind, and he_  
 _turned sharply to face her. "And **how** did you get in here? You weren't here_  
 _before!"_  
  
 _"There is nothing to prevent you pushing the walls down if you want to."_  
 _T'Pol hadn't moved. She stood to one side of the room. "You are the_  
 _instrument of your own freedom."_  
  
 _Reed swallowed hard. He looked away. Distant voices chanted his name.  
_ _"This... isn't real." He said, barely above a whisper._  
  
 _"Malcolm, Malcolm. Maalllcooolm." The voices grew louder. Reed_  
 _closed his eyes._  
  
 _"They're coming back."_

  
  
**\--/--**

  
"This isn't real."  
  
Tucker leaned over Reed to catch his whispered words.  
  
"They're coming back." Terror edged Reed's voice and his hand trembled  
in Tucker's grasp.   
  
The engineer straightened looked at  
Phlox. "Stop it," he said. "You gotta make her stop. He's..."  
  
"He's fine," Phlox replied. "His life signs are strong, and there is no  
reason to think that this is harming him. I think we should allow the  
sub-commander to continue."  
  
Tucker choked back the torrent of words that threatened to spill over and  
turned his gaze to T'Pol.  
  
The sub-commander's face was tense with concentration, a light dew of  
perspiration shone across her brow, and her lips were pressed together in a  
thin line. He looked from her to Reed and relented, squeezing Malcolm's hand.  
"C'mon, sweetheart, come back to me."

  
  
**\--/--**

  
  
_"You are correct," T'Pol said. "This is not real. You are not powerless."_   
  
_"How can you say that? How do I know **you're** another figment? A part of this?" He_   
_tried to keep his focus on her but the monsters danced_   
_around him. "I can't make them stop. I can't get away from them. They're_   
_always there. They never leave me alone!"_   
  
_"They are the past. They have no power over the future. They have power over_   
_the present **only** because you permit it.”_   
  
_"NO!" Reed pushed past the nearest chanting creature and moved to stand face_   
_to face with her. "You're wrong! I don't **want**_ _them here!"_   
  
_"Do you not?" T'Pol raised an eyebrow at him._   
  
_A hand landed on Reed's shoulder. A monster_ _pushed him back into the center of their circle._   
  
_"I don't..." but he had forgotten what he wanted to say._   
  
_"Malcolm, come with us. Malcolm, stay with us. Malcolm. Malcolm."_   
  
_"Lieutenant Reed!"_   
  
_With an effort, he turned to her, sought her face through the milling_   
_creatures._   
  
_"You are powerless because you believe that you are powerless. This would_   
_change if you changed your belief. You have the ability to escape_ _."_   
  
_Reed sighed and shook his head. "That sounds so simple," he muttered._   
_"But don't you think I've **tried** to escape? I don't want to live _ _through this.  
I can't. Not again."_   
  
_"Then... don't." T'Pol took a step forward, the first time she had moved_   
_since he first noticed her in the room. She held up a hand, palm outward.  
_ _He took a half step towards her, his gaze moved from her hand_   
_to her eyes as he pressed his palm against hers._   
  
_Reed cried out as their hands touched. The room was suddenly filled_   
_with light. He sank to his knees, groaning and the brief contact was broken_   
_as T'Pol receded._   
  
_"I must go." She said. "I am... tired."_   
  
_"Please don't go!" Reed struggled to lift his head. "Please, T'Pol! T'Pol!"_   
_But there was no answer and he bowed his head, tears stinging his eyes as a_   
_faint whisper of her voice reached him._   
  
_"Escape."_   
  
_He raised his head. The door of his cell was_ _open. The monsters were still  
there, but they seemed immobilized. He _ _stared at the open door for a long  
time without moving. Somehow the fact _ _that it was open was more frightening  
than his captivity had been._

  
  


  
**\--/--**

  
  
T'Pol removed her hand from Reed's temple. With a shuddering  
sigh, she raised her head and took a half step away from the bio bed before  
he knees buckled. Archer quickly stepped forward to catch her.  
  
The Vulcan leaned against the captain for support, eyes closed, head bowed.   
"I... reached him." She murmured before her senses  
gave way and she slumped unconscious in Archer's arms.  
  
Tucker watched as the captain lifted T'Pol in his arms and carried her to  
another bio bed where he laid her down and Phlox examined her.   
Tucker let go of Reed's hand and walked over to them. "Is she gonna be  
okay?"  
  
"In time," Phlox said, turning from his examination to smile at Tucker. "She  
needs rest."  
  
Tucker nodded. "Glad to hear it," he murmured and glanced at the captain who  
was all tender concern as he bent over the sub-commander's bed. Tucker  
smiled to himself and glanced away.

  
  
  
**\--/--**

  
  
_Malcolm Reed huddled in the center of his cell staring at the open door. No_   
_one had come through it. There were no sounds from outside to tell him if_   
_anyone was even aware that the door was open. He slowly_   
_got to his feet._   
  
_Searching around for a weapon, he found nothing except the dishes on the_   
_tray and after a moment's hesitation he removed the plates and took the tray_   
_in his hands._   
  
_He edged towards the door, holding the tray in front of him like a_   
_shield._   
  
_T'Pol had urged him to escape. As an officer in Star Fleet, he was_   
_duty bound to do so at any cost. He shuffled forward, cursing his shaking hands,  
and took a tighter hold on the tray._   
  
_When he reached the doorway, he pressed himself against the wall and slowly_   
_peered around into a corridor which appeared deserted. He could hear muted_   
_sounds. Voices, and a persistent beep, repeated at regular intervals._   
_Malcolm stood there for a long time, trying to find the courage to step_   
_across the threshold._   
  


  
**\--/--**

  
  
Tucker sat by Reed's side, holding the lieutenant's hand in both of his.   
He stared into the lieutenant's face, silently urging his lover to wake up.  
  
Phlox had examined Reed more than an hour ago and had said that he  
appeared to be sleeping naturally, but Reed had not stirred since the mind  
meld.  
  
"Malcolm?" Tucker said softly, mindful of the sub-commander who rested in  
the next bed over and not wanting to disturb her. "Can ya hear me?"  
  
Tucker glanced up, making sure no one was around to hear him, before he spoke in Zilanthi.  
  
"Rheedh," There was no Zilanthi word for Malcolm. "Reedh, I love you," Tucker  
murmured. "I know what happened, I know that you heard someone talking about  
ya, and I know those words hurt." Tucker blinked a few times to clear away  
tears that had risen to his eyes. "I want ya to know I... found out who it was,  
Rheedh. I found 'em an I... I reminded ‘em both how important it is that they  
keep their private opinions as just that. Private."  
  
He drew a deep breath and lifted Reed's hand to his lips, placing a gentle  
kiss on the thin knuckles before he went on. "I don't blame ya for wanting  
to get away from that kinda thing. I don't blame ya one bit, but Rheedh. You  
gotta come back to me. I need you here with me."

  
  
**\--/--**

  
There was a voice in the corridor, talking, saying his Zilanthi name.   
A voice he knew and loved, speaking in a tongue  
he understood; a language that resonated within him and spoke of  
safety and love and home. Reed smiled and stepped into the doorway as the  
voice continued to speak softly. He took a half step across the threshold.  
  
"Tucher?" He called in the same language the voice spoke.

  
  
**\--/--**

  
"Tucher?"  
  
Tucker sat bolt upright and peered into Reed's face. "Malcolm!"  
  
Reed sighed, and rolled his head a few times on the pillow, his eyelids  
fluttered and then he opened his eyes and looked into the misty blue ones  
that met his.  
  
"Trip." Reed tried to sit up.  
  
"Whoa there," Tucker said and gently pressed him back down on the bed. "You  
just lie there and take it easy." He turned to look over his shoulder. "Doctor Phlox?"


	19. Epilogue

A burst of laughter broke out across the mess hall from the small table in  
one corner.  
  
"Well, that's easy for _you_ to say," Commander Charles Tucker said. "You  
weren't the one who had t'carry the damn thing half way across engineerin'!"  
He smiled at the repeated laughter and met his lover's eyes across the  
table.  
  
It was refreshing to see Reed taking part in such a lively conversation,  
laughing along with Mayweather, Sato and Cutler who had joined them for  
dinner. Sometimes, like now, the shadows that still haunted those blue-grey   
eyes seemed to almost vanish. Tucker knew there was still a long road back  
for Reed, but the man was making good progress, and his healing was  
facilitated by Reed's own determination to leave the past behind and return  
to the life and career he loved.  
  
Dinner was long over, but no one seemed inclined to leave. It was pleasant,  
just killing time with the small group of friends who had accepted the two  
men back into their circle without any friction.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Reed said. "I've heard you're quite the superhero type   
when you want to be."  
  
"What's that s’posed t'mean?" Tucker was instantly on the defensive as Sato  
and Mayweather both tried and failed, to suppress their laughter.  
  
"Well, I'd always had a fantasy about being rescued by a knight in shining  
armor," Reed went on, and then completely deadpan, he added. "Though I  
suppose I shall just have to settle for one clad in a bathrobe and not much  
else.  
  
Tucker felt his face grow hot. He'd hoped that part of the story of his mad  
dash to Reed's side four weeks earlier wouldn't have reached the lieutenant’s  
ears. He swallowed hard and was still searching for words when Reed  
chuckled.  
  
"Relax, no one was terribly upset about it," he said. "Least of all myself!"  
  
"Well, except for the fact that it was all over before anyone had time get a   
good look at him," Mayweather put in.  
  
"Hm, yeah, I heard that more than a few people were disappointed about  
 _that_ ," Sato said as she sipped her coffee.  
  
"I was under duress, and I... I don’t take kindly to bein’ the object of people’s   
fantasies." Tucker said with a shake of his head.  
  
"Oh c'mon, Commander," Mayweather grinned, "We have to do something to pass  
the time!"  
  
"Besides," Reed said nodding at Mayweather in agreement. “I can personally vouch   
that Mister Tuckah here is more than satisfactory fantasy fodder!”  
  
His words were greeted by more laughter and a moment later, the door to the  
mess hall slid open and Captain Archer walked in. "What's going on here?" He  
looked at each member of the group with a frown. "You sound like a  
drunken Bavarian ski team."  
  
"And _you'd_ know what that sounds like," Tucker quipped with a grin,  
realizing that the captain's tone was one of mock severity. He was delighted  
when Archer blushed scarlet and fumbled for words as he joined them at the  
table.  
  
"Sounds like there's a story just itching to be told there," Sato remarked  
and Tucker leaned forward eagerly.  
  
"See it all started when..."  
  
"Trip!" Archer warned to no avail as the engineer obviously warmed to his  
tale, and completely ignored him.  
  
The captain sighed and shook his head, leaning back in his chair with an air  
of resignation as the story was told, complete with several wild  
embellishments that Archer was certain had never actually happened. But then  
again, Tucker had never been one to let the facts get in the way of a good  
story.  
  
Archer was glad to have Trip back. The captain looked from Tucker  
to Reed and nodded to himself as he joined in on another round of laughter.  
He was glad to have them _both_ back.  
  
~FIN~

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this story, please leave kudos or comments to let the author know.


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